Love is the End
by LauGS
Summary: After the unthinkable happens on his wedding day, Kurt Hummel has to learn how to navigate life after heartbreak. But he is not alone – his best friend, Blaine Anderson, is there to take him on a journey back to happiness and love.
1. The Wedding

**Hello everyone!**

**Welcome to yet another fic. This one was my 2014 NaNoWriMo project. It was the first time I was able to participate, and I had a fantastic time. I also managed to write over 52.000 words in a month, so I was pretty happy with it. **

**This story is a little different. I like to think of it as a journey. Every chapter will have a main focus as we move towards the end. It is, as always, completed, so you don't have to worry about me abandoning it halfway through. It has 9 chapters and a little epilogue. **

**I would like to thank Wutif and Christine, who remain the most awesome betas in the fandom, as well as thatgleekychick, who was a wonderful cheerleader when I was writing this. **

**The title is a Keane song – one you should all go listen to, because it's beautiful. **

**I own nothing, but I certainly hope you will enjoy it.**

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><p><em>I met Kurt when we were seventeen years old. He somehow thought that it would be a good idea to pretend to be a Dalton student to spy on our Glee club. I knew within two seconds of looking at him, but I played along. I don't know why I did it. I guess a part of me knew how important that boy was going to be to me...<em>

_Kurt became my best friend when he briefly transferred to Dalton, because we understood each other in a way no one else ever had. By the time he transferred back to McKinley we both knew we had a friendship that would last for the rest of our lives. It even survived the Warblers being crushed at Regionals by New Direction's damn original songs. _

_So eventually we both graduated from different high schools and got into colleges on opposite sides of the continent, but we never stopped talking, we never stopped caring about each other... and we made it. When I finally moved to New York after college, it was as if we had never been apart._

_There was one difference, though. Kurt was glowing and happy in a way I had rarely seen him before. It was like he had just been told that every Friday from now until the end of times would be Black Friday. And those of you who know Kurt as well as I do know that there's nothing that this man enjoys more than wrestling a hostile crowd for a half-off pair of McQueen ankle boots._

_But the reason for Kurt's happiness wasn't related to fashion this time. No, there was a new man in his life, and for the first two days I was in New York, all he talked about was Mark. Mark, who was handsome and smart and a real gentleman. Mark, the man of his dreams. So I had to meet this man, of course. I had to see for myself that Kurt was with a man who deserved him. _

_Just like I knew within two seconds that Kurt was a terrible spy, I knew Mark was the man Kurt was going to marry at first sight. So I'm standing here today, making a toast at their wedding, and knowing that there's only happiness, love and a fulfilling life in the road ahead, waiting for them to walk it hand in hand. And I'm honored to be a little part in their story and to get to witness the beautiful love story they have been building together since the day they met. That's why I ask you to raise your glasses and toast for my amazing best friend, and the love of his life. To Kurt and Mark..._

Blaine skimmed through his notes two more times before slipping them back into the inner pocket of his jacket. His speech probably should have been funnier, teasing and embarrassing Kurt, to make their guests laugh. But he hadn't written that speech for their guests. He had written it for Kurt – and Kurt deserved more than being the target of light jokes on his wedding day. His journey had been long, emotional and dramatic at some points. Blaine preferred to revisit his story – _their_ story – from another point of view. He preferred to talk about his journey to happiness and their friendship. If that made his best man's speech a failure, he didn't care. He knew Kurt would appreciate it.

He fished his cell phone out of his pocket to check the time. There was still another hour and a half to go until it was show time. He was standing in the hallway, leaning against a wall outside Kurt's hotel room. Kurt had asked him to step outside for a minute, while he fixed an unexpected fashion emergency on one of the groomsmaid dresses. Blaine had been glad to see Kurt take in the emergency calmly – he and Kurt's father had been betting whether Kurt was going to turn into Groomzila since they had found out Mark had proposed. So far, Kurt had proved to be remarkably pleasant. Before the night ended, Blaine would be fifty bucks richer and he would finally get to hold over Burt Hummel's head that he knew his son better than he did. It had been an ongoing argument for years now.

Speaking of the devil, Burt appeared just then at the end of the hallway, dressed impeccably in a suit designed by Kurt, holding a bottle of Evian. He smiled when he saw Blaine standing alone in the empty hallway.

"He kicked you out already?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope. He's just helping Mark's cousin with a dress related crisis," Blaine replied. Burt gave him a quick pat in the back. "Everything okay? Where's Carole?"

"She's chatting with Rachel downstairs. I was just getting some water for Kurt. I don't want him to be dehydrated by the time he walks down the aisle. He barely had any breakfast this morning," Burt explained. "I think he's finally starting to get nervous."

"He'll be fine," Blaine said, completely certain, as he pocketed his phone once again. "He's been waiting for this moment for a very long time. Married life is going to suit him like a glove."

Burt's smile turned a bit wistful. "I can't believe my son's going to be married in just a few hours. It seemed like it was only yesterday that he was having those tea parties in the garden and teaching me how to grab those damn plastic cups..."

Blaine squeezed Burt's arm fondly. "Maybe in just a handful of years you'll be having tea parties with a new little Hummel."

Before Burt could formulate a response to that, slightly choking as he became momentarily emotional, the door to Kurt's room opened and a young woman walked out of it. She looked relieved and absolutely stunning in her teal groomsmaid dress. She waved at Burt and Blaine before rushing down the hall to finish getting her make-up done.

Kurt stood in the doorway, still in jeans and a red shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "I need to start getting ready or I'll be walking down the aisle like this. Has anyone checked on Mark?"

"I just saw his dad downstairs. He's fine. Everything's going according to schedule. Don't worry," Burt said, handing Kurt the bottle of water and watching him take a nice long sip. "Do you need any help?"

""No. I'm fine. I just have to shower and do my hair, before I get dressed," Kurt sighed and looked at the two men while biting his lip. "I can't believe I'm getting married today."

"That makes two of us, kiddo," Burt said, putting his hand on his son's shoulder. Kurt smiled warmly at him, and for a few seconds, it was just him and his father, and the rest of the world didn't exist. It was as if they were saying some sort of goodbye – Kurt getting married was one of the last definite steps into adulthood, and Burt Hummel was trying to get used to the idea that his son wasn't a boy anymore. He was a man.

Kurt finally turned to Blaine. Blaine treasured the sight of Kurt's sparkling eyes looking undeniably euphoric, committing it to memory for when this day was over. "You have the ring, right?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. Kurt had asked him that no less than seventy five times since he had woken up that morning. "Yes, Kurt. It's still in my pocket, just like when you asked me that same question less than an hour ago."

Kurt shrugged and chuckled. "Sorry. I just want to be sure everything's going to be perfect."

Blaine reached for Kurt's hand and squeezed it gently. Kurt immediately threaded their fingers together and squeezed back. "It will be. I promise."

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><p>Kurt's suit was hanging on the closet door, one of his best designs, slim, black and classic, with a flowing pattern woven into the fabric to make it special. Kurt smiled, thinking how handsome his fiancé was going to look in his suit; they complimented each other so well.<p>

"Blaine... do you mind...?" Burt muttered, leaving the rest of the question in the air. Kurt turned back to them, and saw Blaine nodding with an understanding, knowing look on his face. He exited and closed the door behind him, leaving father and son on their own.

"If you're going to make me cry, do it before I put on my mascara, please," Kurt said, arching an eyebrow at him. At Burt's confused glance, he laughed. "Just kidding, Dad. What's going on?"

Burt lowered himself into one of the Louis XV style armchairs and fidgeted until he was comfortable. "You know, this morning I woke up really early, and sat outside on the balcony to drink my coffee. I thought about your mom. She would have been so thrilled to see the man you've become, and know that you've found such a wonderful partner to share your life with…"

"Oh, Dad..." Kurt whispered, already feeling the tears building in his eyes. He sat on the armchair next to his father's and put a hand on his knee.

"I'm not saying this to make you sad or anything, Kurt. I just... I've always known that you wondered whether your Mom would have approved of you or not... and I know you have been trying to honor her memory all these years... and I just want you to know that she would have loved you no matter what, and that the only thing she truly cared about was that you were the happiest you could be," Burt continued, placing his hand on top of his son's. "And Mark is a fantastic guy, and I know, without a doubt, that he will be the perfect husband for you..."

"I know," Kurt nodded, using his free hand to wipe at the tears trailing down his cheeks. "I just wish she could see me now. That she could meet him..."

"Me too," Burt smiled sadly. "But she _is_ here. I know you're not a religious guy, or even a spiritual guy... but I know she's with you everywhere you go. And she's here now, and you can bet she's damn proud of her son."

"Oh god, stop," Kurt sobbed, covering his face. "I'm going to be all blotchy..."

"I'm sorry," Burt chuckled, but he didn't sound sorry at all. "I really needed to have a little talk with you, to tell you this... and to tell you I think you're going to be a wonderful husband."

Kurt smiled at that. "Any advice?"

"Always be honest with each other, never put work before your family, and respect each other. Being in love is the best thing you could ever feel, but it's not what makes a marriage. What makes a marriage is having each other's back at the end of the day," Burt answered. "You'll be alright, kiddo. What you and Mark have... it's the real thing. I can tell."

"Well, I'm glad. We _are_ about to take a pretty big step..." Kurt said, rolling his eyes.

Burt laughed and shook his head. "Don't be a smart ass and get dressed."

Kurt didn't know if his father's words had told him anything new, but he did feel a million times calmer than he had before they talked.

He loved Mark. Mark loved him. They were perfect for each other. Married life was going to be a dream come true.

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><p>Blaine was hoping to get a few minutes alone with his best friend before the ceremony, but Kurt's hotel room seemed to be a constant swarm of people coming and going. Blaine was kept busy running all over the place fixing issues that came up, in his role as Kurt's best man. Kurt was counting on him, so he was going to make sure Kurt's wedding day was the best day of his life.<p>

While he waited for Kurt to finish getting dressed, Blaine couldn't help thinking back to when they were teenagers. They had been there for each other during the hardest times - when Kurt had been horribly bullied at McKinley; when Blaine had been practically harassed by Sebastian, a fellow Warbler who simply couldn't take no for an answer; when Kurt's dad had cancer during Kurt's first year in New York... every single dark moment in their lives had been spent together, pushing each other through it all. There were moments when Blaine had no idea how he would have survived, if Kurt hadn't been with him.

Blaine looked back and saw a road paved with heartbreak that had been easier to transit just because Kurt had been holding his hand and smiling at him, telling him he could make it. He saw a road paved with small and not so small successes that meant even more because he had shared them with Kurt.

And now Kurt was getting married.

Blaine wasn't delusional - he knew he would see a lot less of Kurt in the following months. He couldn't blame him, though. But he knew that no matter how in love and how insanely happy Kurt was with his new husband, he would always make room in his life for Blaine. Their friendship had passed every test they had put it through. Above all, Blaine wanted Kurt to be happy, and Mark was always looking for new ways to make his fiancé smile.

Kurt would be in excellent hands.

"Earth to Blaine?" Kurt said, slightly amused, and Blaine shook himself out of his trance to look up at his best friend, who was leaning towards him, trying to catch his attention. "You okay? It looked like you were a million miles away..."

"Yeah, sorry," Blaine said sheepishly. "I got distracted walking down memory lane, I guess..."

"Oh, no, you too?" Kurt asked, taking a seat next to Blaine on the couch. "You're not going to make me tear up like Dad did, are you? Because I really don't want to have red eyes in the wedding pictures..."

Blaine chuckled. "I was just thinking of everything we've been through. Seventeen year-old Kurt Hummel would have never imagined he would be getting married to his Prince Charming in a beautiful hotel in New York City."

"God, I know..." Kurt sighed, looking around the room. "I didn't even think I would be able to get a boyfriend back then."

"Please," Blaine scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You were gorgeous even then. You've always been the most attractive man I've ever met."

Kurt laughed and nudged him with his shoulder playfully. "You should have said that when we first met, then. I had a huge crush on you."

"I was intimidated. I had a crush on you too, you know," Blaine replied, and they both laughed, thinking of how misguided and silly they had been. "I think it worked out quite well for you, though."

"Mm, you're probably right..." Kurt said, unable to hold his smile, and his blue eyes sparkled. Blaine didn't need to ask to know he was thinking about Mark. "You know, that friend of Mark's we've been meaning to introduce you to will be here tonight..."

"Oh god, stop trying to set me up. Especially on your wedding day," Blaine hid his face in his hands. "We'll talk about it once you come back from your honeymoon. We could do a double date. Today, worry about not tripping your way down the aisle, and I'll worry about not screwing up my best man's speech and the song for your first dance with your husband."

"Thanks for agreeing to play tonight, by the way," Kurt said softly, squeezing his knee.

"You know we never say no to a gig," Blaine shrugged. His band hadn't had many opportunities to play live lately, and he would have never told Kurt to find his entertainment elsewhere when Kurt had said he really wanted Blaine to sing while he and Mark had their first dance as husbands.

"I don't think I've thanked you for everything you've done," Kurt said, dropping his head on Blaine's shoulder, momentarily not caring about ruining his hair. "I wouldn't have been able to organize this wedding without you. I love you, Blaine."

"Love you more," Blaine answered, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. "Now let's go get you married."

Kurt's smile was the brightest Blaine had ever seen.

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><p>Mark Williams truly was Prince Charming. He was drop-dead gorgeous, with grey eyes and dark ebony hair. Both men and women turned their heads when he walked by. Straight men envied him, and gay men and women were instantly smitten. Kurt had spent months wondering how it was possible that a man like Mark wanted to date him, until Blaine pointed out that he had be same effect.<p>

Their story sounded like some kind of rom-com. Kurt had wanted an outlet for stress, between school, work and starting his own fashion label, so he joined a cooking class. He had always loved baking treats for friends, but he wanted to learn how to prepare more sophisticated dishes. So, on Thursday nights, he took the subway to the cooking institute and only worried about not burning whatever they were working on that day. And considering how incredibly, jaw-dropping handsome the teacher was… well, it was logical that one or two baklavas were burned.

Mark was a dream come true. He was smart, funny and kind. He was a true gentleman who never hesitated to do everything he could to make Kurt feel special. Burt and Blaine loved him and approved of him ten seconds after meeting him for the first time. No one ever doubted that he would be the man to make Kurt happy for the rest of his life.

And now they were getting married.

Kurt fidgeted as he waited, facing the heavy wooden doors. Burt, Finn and Blaine were standing behind him, whispering in low voices, while clearly allowing him a minute to himself. He appreciated that he didn't have to say a word for them to understand him. He took a deep breath and couldn't stop the smile that appeared on his face when he thought of the beautiful life that was waiting for him as soon as he walked through those doors.

Burt placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Are you ready, son?"

Kurt's heart started beating a bit faster. "I'm _so_ ready."

Mark and he had flipped a coin to decide who would walk down the aisle first. Kurt had secretly hoped he would go first, because he really wanted to see Mark walking towards him, and had been ecstatic when luck ended up being on his side. Now, he walked down the aisle, smiling at his friends and family, and feeling his whole body vibrating in anticipation. Blaine gave him a wide smile before Kurt stepped next to him onto the altar.

When the doors opened again and Kurt caught the first glimpse of his fiancé as he stepped into the room, he felt as if he couldn't breathe. God, he was _so_ beautiful, and he was _Kurt's_. Somehow, Kurt had found this amazing man who loved him unconditionally, someone he wouldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams… and there he was now, walking towards him slowly, with a gardenia pinned to his lapel and a smile that was only meant for him.

They were closely matched in height, so once he reached Kurt at the altar, they were looking into each other's eyes. They were both smiling so much that their faces ached, but they couldn't stop. Mark held Kurt's hands tightly, his body trembling with excitement. Neither said a word, but both knew exactly what the other was feeling.

Burt had once said they were a match made in heaven – and though Kurt had never truly believed in those things, he had to agree with his Dad on that one.

Kurt was so lost in Mark's lovely eyes that he didn't realize the ceremony had started.

"… and they are here before you today, because they want to celebrate that love," the Officiant was saying. "When they were trying to find the perfect words to describe their love, Mark and Kurt decided that one of the most exact definitions could be found in _The Holders_, by Julianna Scott: _'I loved him because I knew him. Because I'd seen the man he truly was inside, and it never failed to amaze me. I loved him for his heart and his strength. For his endless compassion and his unbreakable spirit even in the face of everything he'd been through. I loved him because he was the person I wanted to be, and I was a better person just through the privilege of knowing him_.'"

_And so it begins_, Kurt thought, as he felt the first tear slip down his cheek helplessly. Mark squeezed his hand a little tighter, his palms a little damp. Right on cue, Blaine discretely handed him a tissue. He could always count on Blaine to be ready whenever he needed him.

The Officiant smiled when she finished reading the quote and glanced at Mark and Kurt. "That was beautiful. I'm sure everyone agrees that it's time to move on to some very important questions…"

Kurt nodded eagerly and Mark chuckled, raising one of Kurt's hands to his lips to place a soft kiss on his knuckles. Kurt wondered if he was as pale as Mark looked.

"Kurt, will you take this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in marriage, will you love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long as you both shall live?"

Kurt's answered almost burst out of him before the Officiant had finished talking. "Yes. _Yes_."

"And Mark, will you take this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in marriage, will you love him, comfort him, honor him, and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long as you both shall live?"

Mark's hand tightened on his, his head slightly lowered and his eyes downcast, as if he was considering his answer. He opened his mouth, but no words were uttered. Kurt tilted his head to the side, watching him expectantly.

There was a rush of awkward murmurs and Kurt glanced around the room as he started to panic.

The Officiant cleared her throat pointedly. "Mark?"

Mark exhaled harshly, but he still didn't say anything. He finally looked up at Kurt, his eyes confused.

"Mark?" Kurt whispered nervously. "Please say something…"

"I… I don't…" Mark visibly swallowed, and his eyes went wide. Kurt could feel his hands shaking in his own. "I… I don't feel well…"

Taken by surprise, Kurt barely managed to react in time to stop Mark's head from hitting the floor when he fell. Every one began to talk at the same time, but Kurt didn't hear them, the buzzing in his ears and the room spinning around him like he was drugged. He kneeled next to Mark and placed his hand on his forehead.

"Mark? Honey? Oh my god, please, say something…" Kurt muttered. Mark's eyes were closed and he didn't respond, didn't even move…

He didn't realize Blaine was next to him until he heard him shout. "Finn! Quickly, call an ambulance!"

Kurt pressed two fingers against Mark's pulse point, but he was shaking so badly he couldn't feel anything. His head felt as if it was filled with cotton – his thoughts were slow, and he had trouble processing what everyone else was saying.

"Mark, open your eyes," Kurt pleaded, clutching at Mark's suit desperately. "Mark, can you hear me?"

"Kurt…" Burt leaned closer to him. "Kurt, kiddo, you have to give him space to breathe…"

"No! No, he needs me!" Kurt exclaimed, as his father wrapped his arms around him to pull him away.

"The ambulance is on its way," Burt informed him as calmly as he could. "Everything will be okay, kiddo. Just let him breathe…"

But Mark was not breathing.

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><p>Kurt's beautiful jacket was folded carelessly over a chair, as Kurt paced back and forth in the waiting room, his arms clasped tightly to hold himself together. Everyone gave him space, unsure of what to say or do, easily perceiving he was barely keeping himself together, his tears welling with tears he refused to cry.<p>

Burt and Carole sat nearby, sitting close together, their hands clasped, talking in low concerned tones to Mark's parents. Finn had stayed behind with their guests, to handle their questions and concerns. Kurt could feel the tension weighing on his shoulders.

Blaine was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching Kurt silently. His amber eyes met his own blue ones, and Kurt understood the implied question without the need for words. Blaine wanted to know if he was okay. Kurt simply managed to shake his head, unsure. How could he be okay when his fiancé (_oh god, he didn't even get to say _I do) had been rushed through the emergency room and no one had stopped by to give him any news?

Blaine pulled away from the wall and intercepted Kurt when he was about to turn and go back to the other side of the room. His hands were firm on his arms, and his face, even though he was just as worried as everyone else, was serene for his benefit.

"Hey. Why don't you take a seat with me? You're going to dig a hole in the floor if you don't stop," Blaine said, doing his best to keep his voice light.

"Why hasn't a doctor come back to tell us how he is?" Kurt asked instead. His blue eyes were blown wide, looking absolutely devastated. "He's going to be okay, right, Blaine?"

Blaine swallowed, and glanced away for a moment. "I don't know, sweetie. I hope so."

Seeing Blaine doubt made Kurt stop this time. "No. No, you have to say he'll be okay. Things are always okay when you say so…"

Blaine pulled him into his arms and Kurt immediately hid his face against the crook of his neck. Blaine made an effort to keep his breathing even, and pressed Kurt's hand against his chest so he could follow it. "Remember that summer when you visited me in Los Angeles? We went to the beach after midnight and just lay on the sand and stared up at the sky. Everything was silent and you said you hadn't seen a sky full of stars since you had moved to New York. Remember that?"

"Yes…" Kurt murmured.

"Remember how calm it was? It felt like we were all alone in the world, and you said you had never felt so at peace before," Blaine said, with his lips against Kurt's temple. "Just breathe with me, sweetheart, and remember how that felt."

Kurt nodded, doing his best to follow Blaine's words but he felt a sob rising in his throat anyway. Despite all the terrible things he had been through he had never been so terrified.

He burrowed deeper into Blaine's embrace and wished to wake up from this nightmare.

Kurt focused on Blaine's comforting warmth. When he was in Blaine's arms, things never went wrong. He felt safe. He was never alone when Blaine put his arms around him. It was like being home – familiar, reliable, eternal.

Kurt had barely started building a bubble of protection around himself when he heard the door to the waiting room open and a male voice asking for Mark Williams' family. He ripped himself from Blaine's arms and stumbled towards him, as the rest of the family gathered around him.

"How is he? What happened to him? Can I see him?" He asked, before the doctor could even open his mouth.

"Mr. Williams suffered a sudden cardiac arrest," the doctor explained patiently.

"Oh my god," Kurt covered his mouth with his hand in dismay. "Is he going to be okay?"

The doctor glanced at them sadly. "I'm afraid it was too late. Mr. Williams was already…"

"No." Kurt interrupted, taking a step back as if he needed to get away from the doctor, and stumbling right onto Blaine's chest. "No."

"We did everything we could, but by the time he was admitted, he wasn't breathing. He was…"

"No!" Kurt screamed, as Mark's mother held onto her husband and began crying inconsolably. "No! You're lying!"

"Kurt…" Burt murmured, trying to wrap his arms around his son.

"No!" Kurt pushed him away. "No. Take me to him. I want to see him. You're lying. We're getting married. I want to see him now!"

"I'm very sorry for your loss," the doctor said quietly, but Kurt was shaking his head vehemently.

"No. Tell him, Dad. Tell him that Mark isn't dead! Tell him it can't be," Kurt grabbed his father's jacket in his fists, desperately. "Dad, please…"

"It's gonna be okay, kiddo, just…" Burt murmured helplessly, not knowing what to do.

"Blaine," Kurt turned away from his father. His eyes were wild and unfocused, and he was paler than usual. He looked truly sick. "Blaine, please."

Blaine wrapped his arms around him tightly and rubbed his back. "I'm so sorry, Kurt…" he whispered, and just like that, Kurt's world crumbled into pieces.

He screamed out in agony against Blaine's shoulder. He screamed until his heart was raw with pain. He screamed for a very long time, but it still didn't bring Mark back. He screamed at the top of his lungs, but he still didn't wake up from this nightmare.

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><p><strong>I hope you liked the first chapter! Please make sure to drop me a little message, review or tweet to let me know what you thought of it!<strong>

**I plan to update every Saturday, as usual. Sundays will be the back-up days, in case something happens on Saturday and I cannot get to the computer to update. I tend to be very punctual, though, so hopefully back up days won't be necessary =)**

**Have a wonderful week! Thank you so much for reading!**

**L.-**


	2. Shock

**Hi guys! I hope you're having a fantastic weekend!**

**Thank you damn much for the amazing response to the first chapter of this story. As usual, you all completely manage to blow my mind with your kindness and support, and I want you to know how much I appreciate you. So thank you! **

**The particularity in this story, that I never done before, it's that each chapter has a title, and there's a reason for that – each title is one of the stages of grief, based on the ****Kübler-Ross model, but with two additional stages I found in other sources and that seemed very useless to talk about Kurt's experience. I am no psychologist, nor am I an expert, so if any of you find any mistakes, I apologize. **

**Special thanks to my beautiful betas, Wutif and Christine. I would be lost without them.**

**I own nothing. Enjoy!**

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><p>Kurt sat motionless in front of the mirror, his dry reddened eyes unfocused, staring into nothingness. Blaine was kneeling on the floor before him, carefully adjusting a black skinny tie under Kurt's pristine white collar. The silence was nearly oppressive, and Blaine almost wished Kurt would start crying and screaming again. At least, when he was doing that, Blaine could still see life burning in his blue eyes, even if it was powered with pain. Now, Kurt looked so lifeless that Blaine was genuinely scared. He didn't know what to do to bring him back.<p>

Finished with the tie, Blaine pointed to Kurt's chestnut hair falling limply over his forehead, smiling softly. "Do you want to do your hair? I think I have a can of hairspray in the bathroom."

Kurt didn't respond, or even show any sign of hearing him at all. Blaine swallowed the anguish climbing his throat and did his best to stay calm. Seeing his best friend in the world like this was worse than being tortured.

"I'll do it for you," Blaine said lightly, offering another smile. "It won't look as flawless as when you do it, but I'll make it work." He stood, but once again, Kurt didn't react. He looked paler than usual, his skin looking nearly snow-white, in contrast with the black suit he wore.

Blaine walked out of the bedroom, and closed the door behind him. Burt was sitting on the couch in the living room, his eyes glued to the television without really seeing anything. He looked up when Blaine appeared and immediately reached for the remote to turn the TV off.

"How is he doing?" He asked eagerly.

Blaine shook his head sadly. "Not well. He still hasn't said a single word."

Burt ran his hand over his balding head tiredly. "I couldn't get him to eat at all. He's going to faint if he keeps this up…"

"It's only been two days," Blaine replied. "Maybe the funeral will give him a little more closure. I don't know. I never imagined anything like this would happen to him…"

"No one ever imagines something like this could happen," Burt said. "Mark was such a healthy, young man. He wasn't even thirty yet. It wasn't supposed to be this way…"

"I know. I still don't get it. He seemed fine. He was… I found him in the hallway before the ceremony and he looked so damn happy…" Blaine closed his eyes. He could still see Mark's smile when he had asked if everything was ready, and how Kurt was doing. They had had so many plans, so many milestones to reach… and now Kurt was left on his own with the most uncertain future before him.

"Kurt's strong. He'll get past this. It will take a while, but…" Burt shrugged helplessly. "What else can he do? He needs to learn how to live this new life now. He needs to take one step at a time. Today, he has to go to his fiancé's funeral. Tomorrow, he'll find another challenge. And maybe in a month, six months, a year… maybe he'll be ready to get back on his feet. The only thing we can do is give him our support and our love."

Blaine nodded sadly. He didn't plan to leave Kurt's side any time soon. His best friend needed him now more than ever. "I'd better go help him finish getting ready. We should be leaving in about ten minutes."

Burt turned on the television, once again not really watching whatever game was on. Blaine walked into the bathroom and grabbed the can of hairspray.

Kurt was still sitting on the edge of the bed when he reentered the bedroom. He didn't acknowledge Blaine's return, and didn't even attempt to bat his hands away when Blaine began touching his hair. In normal circumstances, Kurt would have never allowed Blaine to touch his hair.

Blaine once again swallowed the lump in his throat. He pretended to focus intently on getting Kurt's bangs off his face. "You know… I understand that this is the hardest time of your life, and that you're hurting so much that you don't even know what to do… but I'm right here, Kurt. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. You won't have to go through this alone. I'll be here every step of the way."

Kurt blinked, and a solitary tear slid down his cheek. That was the only sign Blaine got that Kurt had actually listened to him.

Blaine had to choke back tears of his own, as he finished with Kurt's hair.

* * *

><p>Kurt was gripping his hand so tightly that he was cutting off the circulation. Blaine didn't care – he trapped Kurt's hand in both of his own and swiped his thumb back and forth over his knuckles. He knew it was only a small, insignificant comfort, but he hoped it would be comfort nonetheless.<p>

Kurt leaned heavily on his father's side, his eyes fixed on the casket at the front of the church. There was a priest, softly reciting passages from the bible that were supposed to help this burden be easier to carry, but Kurt, now more than ever, didn't want to believe in a God that allowed bright young people to leave this earth much too soon. The idea of heaven wasn't comforting – he only found paradise in the arms of the man he loved. And the man he loved had been taken away from him so abruptly that he still couldn't process the news.

Just before the priest began yet another speech about God wanting one of his angels back in heaven despite his time amongst mortals being too short, Kurt ripped his hands free from Blaine's grasp, feeling like he needed to scream. For some reason, Mark's parents had decided to have a religious ceremony to say goodbye to their son, but Kurt couldn't take another second of this insanity.

Blaine turned to look at him, concerned, but Kurt was already standing up.

"I want to say something," he exclaimed, and his voice sounded so terribly rough after spending one whole day screaming in despair and another one completely silent.

The priest hesitated at the abrupt interruption but gestured to the lectern, giving Kurt permission to speak. His legs felt weak and wobbly, for the first couple of steps but Blaine and his father were there to catch him, if he fell.

Kurt kept his eyes down, until he stood at the front of the church, gripping the edge of the lectern so tightly his knuckles went white. He could see the coffin out of the corner of his eye, but he refused to look at it. He couldn't look at it.

"Hi," he muttered. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Kurt, Mark's fiancé." He stopped and forced the tears to stay put. "Two days ago, most of you were watching me and Mark stand at the altar to get married, and now we're here…" Kurt exhaled shakily. "It wasn't supposed to be like this…"

For a moment, Kurt glanced at his parents and Blaine, the only ones who could ground him right now.

"Mark didn't even get to say _I do_," Kurt continued, sniffling. "We didn't even get to be husbands before this happened. When he proposed all those months ago, he told me he had always dreamed of being someone's husband. He lost his life prematurely, but he also lost the chance to see that dream come true. It's not fair."

Mark's mother was sitting on the first row and sobbed loudly at those words. Her husband wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, and Kurt looked at them for a second, sharing a moment. Only they knew how badly this hurt.

"It's not fair. He was a good man. He was smart, funny, and so kind. He always… he always stopped to help old ladies and carry their groceries, and always offered to walk Mrs. Freeman's dog in the winter so she wouldn't risk breaking her hip on the ice again. He liked to drop by unannounced and bring me lunch when I was at work." Kurt paused, overcome with sadness. Having to talk about him in past tense seemed so surreal. This had to be a nightmare he could wake up from. Why did this have to be his new reality? "Everyone loved him. He was a fantastic chef, a great friend, and the love of my life. He can't be gone because I…" Unable to stop himself anymore, Kurt turned towards the coffin. Mark looked so peaceful, and just as handsome as ever. But the surroundings were so cold that Kurt couldn't even allow himself to imagine he was just sleeping, that he would wake up and smile at him any minute now. "What am I going to do without you? You weren't supposed to leave me yet. You were never supposed to leave me…"

Kurt couldn't hold himself together any more. He burst into tears, crying so desperately that his legs nearly gave out. He felt his father's strong arms encircle him a few seconds later, and allowed himself to be pulled back to his seat.

His world was spinning out of control, but he couldn't find the strength to make it stop.

* * *

><p>Blaine went home to his silent dark apartment after the funeral, dropped his keys into the bowl by the door, and loosened his tie as he went straight to the kitchen to get a beer. He leaned limply against the counter, exhausted by the very long emotional day.<p>

He was worried about Kurt. Even though Mark's death was still so recent, he was starting to fear that Kurt wouldn't be able to get himself back together and eventually move on. He had seen his best friend go through a lot of heartbreaking situations, and what he loved the most about him was how he kept his head high and pushed through everything with the kind of fierceness Blaine admired and wished he had as well. Kurt was the strongest person he knew, and seeing him shattered in so many pieces made him feel lost. He had no idea how to help him.

He moved into the living room and dropped down on the couch, letting his head fall against the back and closing his eyes. He didn't bother turning a light on. The darkness seemed to suit his mood.

There were so many things he was unsure of. What did Kurt plan to do now? Would he go back to work immediately, to keep himself distracted? Would he prefer to go to Ohio to stay with his family for a while? Was he going to just cry himself raw for a couple of weeks, before he reverted back to his strong self, even if the pain wasn't gone yet? What Blaine did know, without a doubt, was that whatever Kurt decided, he would be there at his side every step of the way.

* * *

><p>Burt and Carole stayed with Kurt for a few more days, but they eventually had to go back to Ohio. Burt reluctantly packed his bags and agreed to leave, and only after Blaine assured him for the millionth time that he would let him know if Kurt needed him to come back.<p>

"I'm serious, Anderson. Call me anytime. You say the word and I'll be on the first plane back here," Burt said, pointing a menacing finger at Blaine.

"I will. But don't worry, Burt. Kurt will be in good hands," Blaine promised, just before Carole enveloped him in a hug that left him slightly breathless.

Blaine insisted that Kurt go along to see his parents to the airport, thinking it would do him good to get out for some fresh air. They parted at the boarding gate after Burt hugged his son tightly for long minutes, murmuring comforting words into his ear. Kurt nodded, but didn't react much otherwise.

They took a taxi back to Blaine's apartment, but Blaine decided to tell the driver to drop them off at a park nearby instead. Kurt didn't protest, didn't even seem to acknowledge the change in destination. It was a beautiful September afternoon. It was still warm and the sky was open and bright. Blaine hooked Kurt's arm through his and they walked slowly, taking in the children running after each other, and the couples walking hand in hand. Kurt's eyes were still unfocused, but he at least took a deep breath and sighed, which was a lot more than any of them had gotten from him in the past few days.

Blaine stopped to buy two ice-cream cones from a vendor and then directed Kurt towards a wooden bench right under a copious tree. Kurt looked down at his strawberry and chocolate cone as if he didn't know what to do with it.

"Eat it before it melts." Blaine encouraged him, quickly licking his vanilla caramel ripple one.

"I'm not hungry," Kurt murmured in a monotone.

"Not an excuse when it comes to ice-cream," Blaine teased him, but it didn't even get him a smile. He sighed, realizing he would have to take a different approach. "Hey." He waited until Kurt shifted his blue eyes towards him. "I know you're still hurting, and that this is probably the hardest time of your life, but I want you to know that I won't leave you alone, okay? However long it takes you to get back on your feet… I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," Kurt said, looking away quickly.

They ate their ice-cream in silence for a while – or rather, Kurt pretended to eat his, but ended up dumping almost all of it in the trash can when it started melting. The sun was slowly going down in the horizon.

"What do you want to do now? We could order some pizza and watch a movie or two. We haven't done that in a while…" Blaine proposed, as they began walking out of the park.

"I want to go home," Kurt replied, and he added, before Blaine could say anything else. "Alone. I want to be alone."

Blaine wanted to protest, but he knew he needed to give Kurt space. He hadn't been alone at all since the wedding. Maybe he needed to collect his thoughts and start focusing on what he needed to do from now on. "Okay. But call me if you need some company…"

Kurt didn't answer. He was already lost in the dark thoughts that swirled in his mind lately.

* * *

><p>Kurt stood in the middle of his living room, looking around and feeling completely overwhelmed. He hadn't been there since before the wedding – he had been staying with Blaine or with his parents at the hotel, since no one seemed to want to let him out of their sights. But coming back here… god, this place had never felt less like a home.<p>

The emptiness seemed to seep into his bones. There were pictures of him and Mark everywhere – smiling with their cheeks pressed together; Mark wearing a stupid birthday crown while Kurt hugged him from behind during his last birthday; the two of them wearing Santa hats, standing in front of his family's Christmas tree back in Ohio. So much happiness had been lost, turned into nothing but memories. Kurt felt like they were choking him now.

Mark was gone. He kept repeating that inside his head, but he somehow couldn't understand what those words meant. He was gone. He wasn't going to see him again. And yet, Kurt turned towards the front door, as if hoping Mark would open it and walk through any moment now, smiling and ready to tell him about whatever had happened at the restaurant that day.

He was gone. One side of the bed would remain vacant. The green coffee mug that complimented his own blue one wouldn't be pulled out of the cupboard in the morning anymore. The set of towels with the awful flower pattern that Mark had bought only because he knew it made Kurt cringe was still in the bathroom, but would go unused. There was a crime novel on the coffee table that Mark had started reading last week, but he would never get to finish.

Kurt took a few steps back, as if he could physically get away from what had happened. When his back was against the wall, he slowly slid himself down to the floor and hugged his legs, bringing them against his chest and burying his face in them.

"It's not fair," he sobbed into his knees. "Come back. You have to come back. _You have to come back…_"

The apartment remained silent and empty, and Kurt's heart broke a little more every time he pleaded in vain.

Still, he kept begging for something that would never happen until his throat was raw and his voice cracked, because he didn't know what else to do.

* * *

><p>Unable to sleep, Blaine got into bed with his laptop and browsed the internet mindlessly for a few hours. He checked a few emails, fell into the rabbit hole that YouTube could turned to, and scrolled through his Facebook feed. Kurt's wall was full of messages of condolence from people who hadn't made it to the wedding or the funeral. He tried to ignore those, but they were numerous and kept popping up. Some were thoughtful and sincere, and others were from people who clearly just wanted to know about what had happened and hid it amongst empty words of sympathy. He had a few messages from common acquaintances himself, asking all about Mark and wanting to know how Kurt was doing. He replied to those who sounded seriously concerned, but skipped the others. He wasn't going to waste his time with people who clearly just wanted to gossip and didn't really care about Kurt or Mark.<p>

It was well past midnight and he was balancing his options – he was craving some coffee, but he knew that if he wanted to get any sleep tonight, he should probably get on that now. He didn't have anywhere to be the following day, but he really wanted to buy Kurt breakfast in the morning, drop by his apartment to check how he was doing after his first night there alone…

He nearly didn't hear the knock on the door. He had his headphones on and he was lost in thought. He frowned, glancing quickly at the time in confusion, before he got out of bed and walked out of his bedroom, grabbing a random hoodie from where it was draped over a chair on his way to the front door.

Blaine was surprised to see Kurt standing out in the hallway. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he looked awful, nothing like himself. He was enveloped in a sweatshirt that clearly didn't belong to him, and was wearing sweatpants. Blaine had never before seen him out in public in such clothes.

Before he could say anything, Kurt ran a hand through his hair tiredly, making more of a mess of it than it already was, and said, "Can I stay here with you tonight?"

Blaine opened the door wider. "Of course."

He didn't ask if Kurt was okay. He didn't ask if something had happened. He didn't ask if there was anything he could do for Kurt. He already knew the answers to all of those questions. He simply followed Kurt when he went straight for his bedroom, and allowed him to settle into bed before he slipped in under the covers next to him, closing his laptop and putting it down on the floor.

Kurt immediately gravitated towards him, wrapping his arms around Blaine and burying his face on his chest. "I can't believe he's gone," he sniffed, so quietly that Blaine almost didn't hear him.

"I know," Blaine whispered, rubbing his back soothingly.

"We should be on our honeymoon right now," Kurt continued, closing his eyes and burrowing even deeper into the softness of Blaine's hoodie. "I told him a million times that Hawaii was such a cliché location. That if we wanted to do what everyone else does, we should have chosen Paris. But he really wanted to go to the beach…"

"And you hate going to the beach," Blaine smiled at him. He had listened to them arguing about the location for the honeymoon a million times. He knew why Kurt had given out in the end.

"The sun isn't my friend," Kurt said, without the usual sarcastic bite that made the phrase sound funny. "But he wanted it so much… he said he couldn't imagine a better honeymoon. Just the sand, the ocean and me for two weeks…"

"He always knew exactly what to say to convince you…"

"He did. He just… he sounded like that was all he needed," Kurt continued. His voice cracked a bit, but he sounded absolutely astounded. "I never thought I would find someone who could want me like that. Someone who would think I was enough to be happy…"

"You're amazing. I always knew you'd find it," Blaine said, without hesitating.

"And now I've lost it…" Kurt's bottom lip quivered as he tried to stop himself from crying.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I wish… I wish I could give you a magic solution right now. I wish I could bring him back. I never want to see you hurting like this but…" Blaine stopped, unsure of what else to say. He didn't know what to say to comfort him anymore.

"But life sucks," Kurt finished for him, and Blaine chuckled sadly.

"Yeah. It really does sometimes," he sighed. "But the happy times make up for it, right?"

"Maybe. I can't really… I can't think of the happy times now. It's all… it just hurts so much…"

Blaine wrapped his arms tighter around Kurt and kissed his forehead. "I know, sweetheart. But there were so many good times. And more will come, even if you don't feel like that is possible now. I know it's hard for you to focus on the good things you and Mark shared, but one day it's going to hurt a little less and you'll be grateful for the time you had with him…"

"I don't want to be grateful for a handful of years that won't even make up half of my life. Not even a quarter of it. I wanted _him_ – forever, until the end of our lives. An end that should have been light years down the road…" Kurt choked on his words and covered his face with a hand, while gripping Blaine's hoodie in a fist with the other.

Blaine didn't know what to say to that – there was no comfort he could possibly offer. He just pressed another kiss to his forehead and held him as tightly as he could, letting Kurt know without having to say it that he was there. He allowed Kurt to cry against his chest while he rubbed his shoulders and his back, until he eventually fell asleep, absolutely spent.

Blaine lay there awake for a little while longer, with his heart broken for his best friend, wishing he could find a way to heal all his wounds, but knowing a simple Band-Aid couldn't cover such a deep cut.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really liked writing Kurt and Blaine's dynamic in this story :)<strong>

**Make sure to drop a little review before you leave the page, and tell what you thought about it! Plus, let's talk about last night's episode! Anyone else is still squealing or is it just me? This season has been a lot better than I originally expected it to be, and I'm so damn happy. **

**Have a wonderful week, and I will see you again very soon!**

**L.-**


	3. Denial

**Hi everyone!**

**I am so damn sorry for not updating on time. Sometimes life just gets in the way. **

**Everytime I update I COMPLETELY forget about mentioning that the amazing artwork for this fic was made by Ottavia, and it just blows my mind. Isn't it gorgeous? **

**Thanks so much for the amazing reviews! I'm very glad you guys are enjoying it. You all rock.**

**Thanks to my beautiful betas, Wutif and Christine, for all their help.**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

><p>The ivory keys felt like a gift under Blaine's fingers, and he smiled as the song came to an end. He looked up with a smile at his band mates, and found all of them smiling just as brightly as him.<p>

"I think that was the best one yet," Theo said from the drums, and everyone else nodded in agreement. "Shall we try once again?"

They ran through the song a couple more times until they were completely satisfied. They rehearsed twice a week, and tried to fill the rest of their week with as many gigs as they possibly could. Mostly, they booked weddings and bar mitzvahs, but they didn't lose hope – one day, the right person would walk by while they were playing, and they would encounter the opportunity of their lives, their big break.

In the meantime, it didn't hurt to get the bills paid.

Blaine was trying to make his living with his music. He was usually the one who found new places to play, mostly bars looking for entertainment. As a backup, he taught kids piano and guitar. It wasn't exciting, but it helped pay the rent and put food in the fridge. He had been tempted more than once to give up and get a position teaching music at a school, maybe teach Glee Club, but every time he got close to applying he talked himself into giving it one more week. There was nothing wrong with being a teacher – he thought maybe he would actually enjoy it – but he was convinced that he still had time. He was still young. He didn't have to settle. Wasn't now the time to be adventurous?

Kurt usually smiled at him fondly and kissed his cheek when he asked him that question, saying, "My sweet little dreamer. Of course it is. Don't give up."

That never failed to keep him going for a little while longer.

Blaine stood from the piano and grabbed his guitar instead. Georgina used the pause to adjust the strings on her bass, while Jimmy took a sip of water.

"We should rehearse the song for the wedding reception. What did the bride say she wanted? _Heaven_, by Bryan Adams?" Georgina asked, as she pushed her red curls out of her face impatiently.

"Yeah," Jimmy nodded. "Talk about cheesy. Some people suck at choosing songs for their weddings."

"Hey, maybe it means something to them. Maybe it's their song," Blaine shrugged. "I wish I had a cheesy song... and someone to share it with."

"Oh,_ boo_, Blaine is getting pathetic again," Georgina teased him, smiling to show she didn't mean anything by it. "We need to get him a man, stat."

"Please, don't. The last guy you got me was horrible. He was huge like a bear. I was scared he was going to smother me," Blaine shuddered. "Plus, I'm pretty sure he had a weird fixation with belts. I don't even want to know what he was thinking about doing to me..."

"You should have invited him in and find out," Theo said, chuckling. If Blaine hadn't been so polite, he would have shown him his middle finger.

"Can we please stop talking about my love life? Or lack thereof? It's definitely the last thing I need right now," Blaine sighed tiredly. How could he think about finding new love when Kurt had just lost his? It seemed wrong somehow.

Georgina's smile turned soft. "How's Kurt doing?"

"Not great. He's mostly sleeps and watches awful TV shows." Blaine replied. Kurt was also barely eating...or showering, which was a very strange development, for Kurt. Grief had certainly changed him. "But he'll get there..."

"Man, I would have never imagined something like this could happen. I'm so sad for him. I was really looking forward to playing at their wedding," Theo said sadly. "Their song was really good, too."

Blaine felt a little pang of sorrow. He remembered long afternoons sitting with Kurt and Mark as they tried to pick the perfect song for their first dance as husbands. Kurt wanted to choose something from Broadway, but Mark was into old classic songs. They had ended up choosing _You're Nobody Until Somebody Loves You_, which Blaine had thought was perfect and so romantic that he almost teared up just thinking about performing it.

There hadn't been any music playing in Blaine's apartment lately, since Kurt had installed himself there, pretty much permanently, unable to face his empty apartment. Blaine didn't know how to ask if he wanted him to go there with him, to put away Mark's things, afraid of how Kurt might react.

For the rest of rehearsal, Blaine was a little distracted. It was normal, lately. His head was always with his best friend, just like his heart.

They called it a day soon after, and Blaine walked the two blocks that separated Jimmy's apartment, where they usually rehearsed, from the subway station, as his guitar case bumped gently against his thigh. It was a little bit comforting. The train was pulling up into the station right as he arrived, so he hurried up and made it a second before the doors shut behind him. He found a pole to grab onto and spent the ride lost in his thoughts and absently humming one of the songs they had played that there under his breath.

He walked towards his building wondering if maybe he could convince Kurt to have some dinner tonight. Maybe they could order Thai. He hoped he could tempt Kurt with some Pad Thai...

But when he walked into his apartment, he immediately forgot about take-out, wedding songs and upcoming gigs in small, dark bars. He stopped in his tracks, wide eyes staring in shock into his tiny kitchen, where Kurt was moving from one counter to the other, looking busy and a lot more active than he had been in the past week or so.

The counters were covered with pies, brownies, cupcakes, and even a roasted chicken. Kurt was opening the oven and sliding a batch of cookies into it. His hair and face were covered in flour, and he was wearing the ridiculous frilly pink apron that Cooper had given Blaine for Christmas one year.

Kurt had once said it was the tackiest thing he had ever seen.

"Kurt?" He called, confused. "Is everything okay?"

Kurt turned to him, and as soon as he smiled, Blaine knew something was wrong. His smile didn't look natural. It looked as if it was painted on his face, completely forced, lifeless, dull. "Oh hey! I didn't hear you come in!" He exclaimed, way too chipper.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked warily.

"What does it look like I'm doing, silly?" Kurt rolled his eyes at him. "Cooking. I hope you're hungry."

"I'm starving, actually, but…" Blaine hesitated. He wasn't sure what to do with Kurt's abrupt change. "Uhm. Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Of course, of course… everything's great. I was just so bored, and I remembered a bunch of recipes that Mark taught me, so…" He turned back to the counter and started whisking something inside a huge plastic bowl. His smile was still fixed on his face, as if it was painted. It looked a little painful. "I couldn't decide what to cook, though, so I made a bit of everything!"

"Okay…" Blaine replied, unsure. Was he supposed to stop him or just let him be? It was probably the first time Kurt said his fiancé's name without cringing in pain, but the way he was behaving was just as concerning. Had he taken any kind of pills? Was he drunk?

"So how was rehearsal? What are you guys working on?" Kurt asked, as he stopped whisking to check the oven.

"It was good. We're rehearsing for a wedding we have next week. And we're playing at the usual bar on Friday, so…" Blaine answered halfheartedly. "Do you need any help?"

"What? Oh, no, no. I'm fine. I got this," Kurt smiled again. "But go wash your hands! I have some au gratin potatoes in the oven, and as soon as those are done, we can have dinner."

Blaine chuckled awkwardly. "How are we going to eat all of this, Kurt?"

Kurt didn't reply. He was busy whisking again with one hand, while he used the other to put some dressing into a salad that was sitting on the counter and Blaine hadn't noticed before.

Blaine backed away quietly, unsure of how to proceed. "I'll just, uh, set the table while you finish with that, then…"

"Sure, go ahead and do that," Kurt murmured distractedly. He abandoned the huge bowl to open the oven, and set the potatoes onto the stove top, because the counter was already crowded to capacity. "God, I love the smell of these… they're so fattening, but so delicious. I only let Mark spoil me with them once a month or so…"

Blaine set the table listening to Kurt prattle on, wondering if something had happened while he was gone. There had to be some explanation for Kurt's abrupt change in behavior. Maybe he should talk to Burt?

Kurt placed the chicken, the potatoes and salad on the table, and filled their plates generously, before he took his seat across from Blaine. He picked up his fork and... frowned down at his plate.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked cautiously.

"Oh…" Kurt exhaled quietly. "Nothing, I… I think I've just lost my appetite after all that cooking…"

Blaine reached across the table for his hand, wrapping his fingers around Kurt's gently. "Hey. Why don't you talk to me? Did something happen today?"

"No, no, of course not, I just… I just wanted to cook. I wanted to do something…" Kurt blinked slowly a couple of times, before he pushed away from the table and stood up. "I have a headache. I think I'm going to lie down for a while…"

Blaine wasn't sure if he should let him go, but he nodded anyway, completely at a loss. "Okay. I'll save some for you, in case you get hungry later…"

"Yeah, thanks…" Kurt said absently, rubbing his temple. Then he turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Blaine picked at his own food for a while, too worried to enjoy it. He knew Mark's death was still too recent, but he had the awful feeling that things were getting out of hand…

* * *

><p>Blaine was sitting at the kitchen table the following morning, still half-asleep, when Kurt got up. Blaine was suddenly distracted from thoughts of the piano lesson he had scheduled in less than an hour, and his hazel eyes lifted from the coffee swirling in his cup, widening slightly in surprise when he found his best friend had not only gotten dressed properly, but he was also carrying his satchel and his sketch book.<p>

"Going somewhere?" Blaine asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Kurt strolled into the kitchen, going straight for the cupboard and grabbing a cup for himself. He poured some coffee into it and leaned against the counter. "Good morning. Yup, I'm going to work."

Blaine was a bit confused. Kurt had barely shown motivation to get out of bed in the past few days. Going to work hadn't exactly been in his list of priorities. "Are you sure? You were meant to take two weeks off anyway. I'm sure they can manage that time without you if you want to stay home…"

"But I _don't_ want to," Kurt replied, stealing his fork and a bite of scrambled eggs. "Seriously, Blaine, staying holed up here isn't doing me any good. My head just goes to the worst possible places. I need a distraction and nothing works better to distract me than work."

"I just don't want you to do something you're not ready for. You're allowed to take time off and grieve, Kurt," Blaine said, softly, squeezing his hand quickly before stealing his fork back.

"I'm fine," Kurt assured him. He drank the rest of his coffee and then grabbed his things from where he had left them on the chair. He dropped a quick kiss on Blaine's unstyled, wild curls. "I'll see you later."

"Okay. Have a nice day at work," Blaine smiled at him, not without a little anxiety.

Kurt waved over his shoulder, gone within seconds, leaving a trace of concern and coconut-scented shampoo behind.

* * *

><p>It was halfway through college when Kurt realized he wouldn't make it in the theatre world. After auditioning for every single play he could find, he realized he didn't fit into the roles he had always dreamed of playing, and the roles he was offered… well, he wasn't exactly eager to play the gay best friend until the end of his days. So he had switched directions, and focused on fashion. It had been his first love – he should've stuck with it all along.<p>

He got a few internships here, and there, but it wasn't until graduation that he realized exactly what he wanted to do. He had piles and piles of designs and boxes full of clothes he had created himself and didn't know what to do with. He set up a page online where he sold his exclusive designs, and when his customers started growing in number rapidly, he decided to just go for it and open a small boutique. He didn't want to produce the same outfit in mass – he liked the idea of creating unique pieces that no one else would have. So he found a little store in Greenwich Village and decided to try his luck. That's how _Courage_ had been born – a name that still made Blaine roll his eyes and blush simultaneously.

Blaine had been the first person to tell him to have courage, and the one to always make sure Kurt didn't forget about it.

So many years later, it still made Kurt breathless. Particularly now. _Courage_. He had never needed so much courage before in his life.

He inhaled deeply before pushing the boutique's door opened. It was a small place, but tastefully decorated, with a beautiful chandelier hanging from the ceiling and light blue walls that didn't pull focus from the incredible pieces in exhibition. It was all about the clothes, and Kurt had taken his time to make sure it would stay like that – he wanted to wow his customers from the very moment they stepped into the store…

"Kurt!" A very surprised voice said from the counter. He removed his sunglasses and found Anna looking at him, almost speechless. "I didn't think you would be coming back so soon…"

Anna was a pretty girl with very peculiar taste. She would show up with lovely blonde hair on a Monday, only to dye it pink two days later. The clothes she wore were nothing like the ones Kurt designed, slightly extravagant and whimsical, but Kurt liked her. She was kind and patient, funny and trustworthy. Sometimes Kurt spent most of his time in his little work room in the back, bent over the sewing machine, and he wanted to be certain that whoever was at front taking care of the business deserved his trust. And Anna deserved it.

Today, her hair was a very bright shade of blue, and it clashed spectacularly with her long green dress and brown cowboy boots. She left her spot behind the counter, where she had been flipping through a magazine previous to his arrival, and quickly crossed the store to wrap her arms around him, even though she was several inches shorter and her head had to rest on his chest instead of on his shoulder.

"I didn't want to miss work." Kurt said simply, as if that explained anything.

Anna smiled in quiet understanding. "Of course. It's nice to see you."

He could see, deep in her black eyes that she wanted to say something, but he was grateful for her silence. "How was it, the past few days?"

"Okay, I guess. That red dress you finished a couple of weeks ago was a huge success. Two women almost ripped each other's heads off for it," Anna said excitedly. "It was kinda awesome."

"I bet it was," Kurt rolled his eyes fondly at her just as a new customer walked in. "I'm going to go to the back and get started on some new designs."

"Alright!" She agreed happily, already moving towards the customer.

Kurt entered his work room. There was something comforting about this place that sent a rush of warmth down his spine. Here, all he had to worry about was constructing beautiful clothing, stitching the hem on a pair of pants, or ensuring his fabric supply remained eclectic. All the things that haunted him elsewhere, the loneliness, the awful reality that he was never going to see Mark again, disappeared here. Here, he wasn't Kurt Hummel, _widower-before-he-even-got-married_. Here he was simply Kurt Hummel, fashion designer.

It felt kind of good.

He settled at his desk, immediately spreading his designs on top of it, regarding them with a critical eye and trying to decide what he wanted to work on first. He chose a lovely beige coat – fall was settling in heavily around them already, leaves slowly turning into beautiful golden tones, and he couldn't think of anything nicer than finally getting to wrap himself in as many layers as he wanted without sweating like a pig.

Kurt worked almost automatically. Anna only interrupted him twice – once because of a client, and the other time to bring him a salad she had picked up for him for lunch. Kurt picked at it distractedly while he sewed, careful not to spill any dressing on the fabric.

At closing time, Anna went into the work room and kissed his cheek. "Don't stay too late. When are you heading out?"

"Ten minutes," Kurt murmured without taking his eyes off the half-finished coat. "I'm trying to figure out what pattern I want to use on it… I feel like it needs a touch of something…"

"I think it's classic. Timeless," Anna said, looking at it thoughtfully. "But... what do I know? You're the genius. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Have a nice night, honey," Kurt answered, still focused on the coat.

As promised, ten minutes later he was getting ready to leave, putting his tools away and gathering scraps of fabric, sorting the larger ones for accent trim and tossing the smaller ones. He opened a drawer to tuck them away, and stopped when the first thing he came upon was the sketch for Mark's suit for the wedding.

Kurt had completely forgotten he had left it there – the last few days before the wedding had been a bit of a blur. He dropped back on his chair, feeling his knees weakening slightly, and stared at it, feeling as if he had just been punched in the stomach.

Mark had looked so damn handsome in that suit…

Tears filled his eyes, and he blinked to keep them back but it was useless. The life he had always wanted had been right in front of him, close enough to touch with his fingertips, lasting only a handful of minutes before it was ripped away from him in the cruelest way.

For a while, Kurt sat there and cried for everything he had lost, right in the palm of his hand. A part of him – the part that had learned to fight and be as strong as he could be no matter what – was so damn sick of crying, yearning for the time to heal and get back on his feet. But another - a part that was now bigger and sadder – just couldn't imagine a way out of his grief, couldn't see a day in the horizon when he might feel better. It would mean he had to somehow accept and be at peace with the idea that Mark was gone, and he would never be okay with that. A world without the man he loved sounded like the most barren, desolated, worthless place he could picture, and Kurt didn't want to live in it...

Kurt's phone vibrating insistently on his desk brought him back to his senses. He thought about ignoring it, but a quick glance told him it was Blaine, so he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Kurt!" Blaine exclaimed. The background noise had to mean he was on the subway. "Are you home yet? I'm on my way. Do you want me to pick up some dinner?"

Kurt cleared his throat quietly. "Sure, yeah. Whatever you're in the mood for..."

There was a small pause on the other end, and when Blaine spoke again, his voice was tinged with the concern Kurt had gotten so used to listening in him. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay? Did you get to my apartment yet?"

Kurt shook his head even though Blaine couldn't see him. "No, I'm still at the boutique, and I... I'm not okay. Not really..."

"I'm on the subway, but I'll be there in... ten minutes. Can you wait for me? Please wait for me there, Kurt."

Kurt closed his eyes. He didn't want to stay, but he felt as if he had nowhere to go. "Okay," he agreed softly.

* * *

><p>The store was completely silent, except for the sounds of New York City that managed to sneak into it, so Kurt heard the knock on the glass door immediately. He hurried to open it, letting Blaine inside, who watched him unlock it with dark, searching eyes, and enveloped him in his arms as soon as Kurt pulled it open.<p>

"Hi," Kurt murmured, sighing tiredly.

"Hi," Blaine replied, kissing the top of his head as soon as Kurt hid his face on the crook of his neck. "I take it you didn't have a nice first day back?"

"It actually was pretty good," Kurt said, sniffling miserably. He lifted his head and looked at Blaine, his blue eyes fixed on Blaine's hazel ones. "I found the sketch I did for Mark's suit for the wedding."

"Oh, sweetheart," Blaine said sadly. "It makes you sad now, but it'll be such a beautiful memory someday. He looked so handsome…"

"He died in it," Kurt retorted rather brusquely. Blaine startled a little, and Kurt sighed again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like… I'm just so fucking tired of this."

"I know. It's alright," Blaine dropped another kiss to his temple and then pulled away a little bit. "What to do you say if we go home, eat dinner and talk a little? We can pick up some food on our way, or I can make something…"

Kurt nodded, and began to collect his things. He hesitated for a moment, thinking, before he put the sketch in his bag. He needed to decide what to do with it. He didn't want to throw it away, and he didn't want it at the boutique, so he needed to find somewhere safe to keep it.

Blaine held his hand all the way to the subway station, and once they were on the train, they stood next to a vacant pole, and Blaine wrapped his free arm around Kurt's waist, tugging him close, grabbing tightly onto it. They didn't say another word, and Blaine knew that the closeness was enough comfort for now.

Kurt focused on the lovely scent of Blaine's cologne, so strong and perfect where he had hidden his face against his neck again, and the tightness of his arm around him, silently letting him know that he wouldn't let him fall.

Kurt really loved Blaine.

When they got to Blaine's apartment, they immediately changed into more comfortable clothes, and walked into the kitchen together, where they silently but companionably made spaghetti and sauce together, dancing around each other in the tiny kitchen with a flawless rhythm born from years of familiarity.

They settled on the couch with their bowls of pasta and a glass of wine, the perfect combination after such a long day. Blaine took a good bite, starving, before he finally looked up at Kurt, who was twirling the spaghetti onto his fork absently.

"Do you want to talk or should I pop in a movie instead?" Blaine offered, smiling understandably at him.

Kurt studied him for a few seconds, torn between pouring his soul to Blaine and digging into his wounds or ignoring them again. The second option never helped. "I know I've been… acting weird lately. I guess I just wanted to feel like everything was back to normal, but the truth is that I feel like there's a huge hole inside of me that I won't ever be able to fill, because Mark is not with me anymore. I needed to pretend like life didn't change, like it's still the same even though my whole world shifted on its axis and I still can't find myself. I don't want to be miserable, but I don't know what to do. I don't know how to stop missing him, how to stop waking up in the middle of the night looking for him, only to realize he's gone. And every time that happens… it's just like a punch in the gut all over again, and I have to start from scratch…"

Blaine listened patiently, like he always did, while Kurt talked almost without stopping for breath, clearly needing to get it out while he could. When it looked as if Kurt didn't know what else to say, looking lost and confused, Blaine put his bowl down and reached for his hand, giving his pale fingers a gentle squeeze. "Kurt… there's no rush. Moving on isn't a race. Yes, it hurts, and it's going to hurt for a while, but it's a process. You don't have to skip through your grief. I don't think you can actually do that. Don't pretend to be okay if you aren't. You're allowed to have bad days, and you're allowed to miss him. Don't hide that. Don't act happy if you're not."

Kurt shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I thought that if I acted like things were back to normal, they magically would be."

"I think it's fantastic that you went back to work and that you had a nice day at the boutique. Maybe it'll be the perfect distraction. You can't stay home thinking about Mark nonstop, just like you can't immediately force yourself to go on with your life if you're not ready. But you can find your own middle grown," Blaine smiled tentatively at him. "Do whatever you're ready for. No one's pushing you to get somewhere you're still not comfortable at."

Kurt smiled too, but less brightly than him, and tilted his head to regard Blaine with a very fond look. "I'm so glad I have you, Blaine. I don't know what I would do without you…"

Blaine rolled his eyes playfully. "You would still be as fabulous as you are now. But you would have fewer drunken duets during the holidays."

Kurt laughed – it wasn't the happiest sound in the world, and it ended before Blaine could actually move past his shock and enjoy how it filled the living room, but it was still the most beautiful thing he had heard in weeks.

"You're probably right," Kurt agreed, causing Blaine to chuckle as well, and then he finally took a bite of spaghetti.

* * *

><p><strong>So there it is! I hope you liked it. Please review and let me know what you thought.<strong>

**Have a great week and I'll see you guys again soon!**

**Love,**

**L.-**


	4. Bargaining

**Happy Saturday guys! **

**I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend, and I guess that after yesterday's episode, you most definitely are :)**

**Thank you so much for the reviews you left for the latest chapter. Hope you enjoy this one as well!**

**Kisses on the forehead for my beautiful betas, Wutif and Christine.**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

><p>September passed in a melancholy blur. Kurt went back to his apartment, doing his best to focus on all the wonderful memories he and Mark had shared, instead of how empty his life seemed now. Whenever he was overwhelmed by loneliness he would show up at Blaine's apartment, but that happened less and less, as the days passed.<p>

October brought colder weather and lots of inspiration for new clothes to make for the boutique, so it wasn't very hard for Kurt to find something to keep himself entertained. Sometimes he got up in the middle of the night to work on a new sketch, when the empty side of the bed seemed to haunt him. Life wasn't perfect, and it would take a very long time before it was, but at least he was handling his pain in a more productive way.

A few of the friends he hadn't seen since the funeral started to call him to meet him for lunch or take him out for a drink. Most of them had kept their distance, wanting to allow him the time and space to get back on his feet, but they thought it was the perfect moment to pop back in and include him in their social outings again.

Some of his best friends from high school were the first to suggest plans to him. Rachel was just as self-centered as she had been at sixteen, but now she was gentler and wiser. She was a fantastic distraction, since she wouldn't stop talking for a single second, so he kept Kurt's head occupied and away from wandering thoughts that had the potential to turn dark and miserable in the blink of an eye. She took him to a couple of Broadway plays followed by dinner at Sardi's where she proudly pointed at her picture on the wall, earned after a very successful stint as Fanny Brice in Funny Girl a few years back. Life was louder and slightly brighter with Rachel in it, even if he ended up with a headache after listening to her talk nonstop for several hours in a row.

Santana paraded back into town ready to cheer Kurt up and make him forget about his sadness. She came and went as she pleased, changing jobs as quickly as she changed sexual partners (_Don't make me sound like a slut, Hummel. There's nothing wrong with liking a warm, soft body next to mine in bed a couple of times a week…_). Kurt had never truly understood how they had managed to become friends, but maybe they were more alike than he liked to admit.

"Here's the deal, Lady Face. I know you're all sad and depressed right now, but I'm ending that tonight. We're going to go to a bar. We're going to do some shots. I'm going to find you a man who's as pretty as he's dumb, and then you're going to fuck him senseless and kick him out in the morning. Rinse and repeat. You'll forget all about being sad before you can say _rimming_."

Or maybe _not_.

Blaine had practically eaten her alive after that (very heartless) speech. Kurt gaped at her, torn between indignation and horror, but had ended up laughing until he was in tears. Both Blaine and Santana had stared at him in silence for a long time – Blaine completely shocked, Santana smirking smugly.

Once he had managed to stop laughing, Kurt took a deep breath and glared at her. "Don't you ever suggest again that I fuck a random guy to forget about Mark. Now, if that's clear and you're done being such a bitch, I would like to take you up on the first part of your offer and do some shots."

The hangover that followed the next morning was pretty epic.

So Kurt was still sad. He was still heartbroken. He still missed Mark every day. He still got up in the middle of the night looking for him in bed. He still hugged Blaine extra hard when he felt the pain was choking him.

But he was starting to get by. With a little help from his friends.

* * *

><p>There were still a lot of really bad days.<p>

Those days, Kurt would rarely get out of bed, and he would lose himself in a haze of memories and tears. He would remember every detail of every day before the wedding – what Mark had done, what he had eaten, if he had seen anyone, if he had gone to the gym, if he had said anything in particular about not feeling well. Kurt would break into pieces every single one of those memories, trying to find the cause for what had ultimately taken Mark away from him.

He never found it, but he kept trying.

Kurt would lie in bed for hours, wondering if there had been anything he could have done, if he had known. He wondered if there had been a way to prevent it. He wished he could go back in time. He drank half a bottle of whiskey and tried to design a time-machine, only to be awakened in the morning with the worst headache of his life and Blaine inexplicably cooking the greasiest breakfast ever in his kitchen.

Those days would usually be filled with doubts and second guesses, with imagined alternatives that would never be certain.

"If only I had known…"

"If he had told me he didn't feel well…"

"Maybe if I had made sure he was eating healthier…"

"Did I stress him out with the wedding? I didn't think I was pushing him too hard. Was I a nightmare?"

The words were uttered towards his dark ceiling in the middle of the night, and by the time morning came, there was a lump in his throat because he didn't know any better than he had the previous night.

* * *

><p>They were eating dinner at Kurt's apartment one night when Blaine cleared his throat awkwardly, which was usually a sign that he was about to broach a topic he wasn't comfortable with.<p>

"Uhm, I was wondering…" He started, rubbing his neck self-consciously. "Do you need any help packing up Mark's things? I could come over this weekend and we could go through his stuff together…"

Kurt stared at him as if Blaine had grown a second head. "Why would I pack his stuff?"

Blaine blinked in surprise. "Kurt… you have to. At some point."

"I have enough room in the closet for my clothes without the need to remove his," Kurt replied stubbornly, eyes focused on his plate.

Blaine bit his lip, as he glanced around the room. "Kurt, you haven't moved a single one of his things. That book on the coffee table has been on that same exact spot since before the wedding…"

"He was reading it. He put it there. I like it there," Kurt said, shrugging. "Would you like more chicken?"

Blaine licked his lips. He knew what Kurt was doing, and he didn't know if this was one of those things he needed to push or not. He thought he could maybe give it one more try. "I'm not saying you have to get rid of everything, or delete his entire existence in your life, but maybe… I don't know. I've heard it's really good for closure."

"Well, if you're done eating, then I think I'm going to start with the dishes. It's getting late and I have to get up early tomorrow," Kurt stood up, gathering their plates and walking towards the kitchen, completely ignoring Blaine. "I'm planning to stop for some fabric, before I go into the boutique. I need the perfect shade of azure blue for an amazing jacket I`m planning…"

"Kurt…"

"Oh! And I didn't show you the new scarf I bought! It's absolutely gorgeous. I need to plan the perfect outfit to wear it with. I'm so glad the weather is getting colder…"

"Kurt, come on…"

"We should go shopping next weekend. I really want to buy some new shoes…"

Blaine swallowed, hating that he was doing this to Kurt. "Kurt, sweetheart… you know that keeping his things around won't bring him back…"

Kurt set the plates down on the counter so forcefully that they shattered. "_Fuck_," he muttered, looking down at his hand. Blaine could see the blood from where he was sitting at the table.

"Oh shit, are you okay?" He went into the kitchen immediately and reached for Kurt's hand, examining it and trying to figure out if the cut would need stitches. He was relieved to see it was pretty small and it didn't seem deep at all.

Kurt's eyes were filled with tears as he stared down at his bloody hand. "I need to keep his things, Blaine. I just need to keep them, okay?"

His voice sounded so small and defeated that Blaine didn't have the heart to contradict him. He simply nodded and hurried to clean the cut.

* * *

><p>Sometimes Blaine's rehearsals ended late. On those days, he would stop by the boutique and pick Kurt up, so they could ride the subway together. They were sitting side by side on the train one night in late October, when Blaine turned to Kurt with an eager smile.<p>

"So… I wanted to ask you," he started, and Kurt shifted slightly so he could face his best friend. "It's Halloween next week, and we're playing at the usual bar. It's going to be a huge costume party and so much fun…"

"Do you want me to make your costume?" Kurt asked. It wouldn't be the first time that Blaine came up with an idea for a perfect costume for Halloween almost at the last minute – he was like a kid. And Kurt was like a permissive parent – he rarely managed to say no to him, especially not when he looked so excited and adorable.

"No. Yes. I don't know, maybe," Blaine shrugged. "I don't even know what I'm going to be yet. But… I was hoping you'd want to go with me?"

Kurt frowned, looking down at the satchel on his lap. "I don't know, Blaine… I don't think I'm in a mood for parties this year. Maybe next time?"

"No, hey, come on," Blaine bumped their shoulders together, and Kurt glanced up at him. He was staring back pleadingly. "Don't shoot me down so quickly. It'll be a lot of fun, and I think you'll have a great time…"

"I'd probably be a bother, more than anything. It's one thing to go out drinking with you and Santana once in a while, but dressing up…" Kurt trailed off, unsure.

"I think it's exactly what you need," Blaine said thoughtfully, causing Kurt to look back at him. "There's something sort of magical about Halloween, about being allowed to go out there pretending to be someone else. For one night, you get to forget about whatever's going on in your life. You don't have to feel Kurt Hummel's pain. You can be a blood-thirsty vampire, a secret agent in a sharp suit, or even a Power Ranger. You can put life on hold, and just enjoy yourself."

Kurt remained silent until they got down at their exit. They walked with their arms linked together to Blaine's apartment, and Kurt watched his Doc Marten for a little while, as he thought. "You know, your idea really is appealing…"

"I know! And planning the outfits is the best part. Plus, you get to watch me perform. It's been a while, and you're my greatest fan," Blaine grinned at him brightly, and damn his beautiful, charming smile, but he had Kurt wrapped around his little finger.

"Alright," Kurt agreed, still hesitating. "I'll think about it. No promises." He sighed as Blaine searched for his keys to get into his building. "Not being me for one night does sound nice, actually…"

"And we always look amazing in matching costumes…" Blaine teased, winking at him over his shoulder.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, we _are_ one very attractive pair…"

* * *

><p>The last time they had worn matching Halloween costumes had been a few years back. Kurt, Mark, Blaine, and the guy Blaine had been dating then, Dylan, had dressed as the Ninja Turtles. Dylan hadn't been very excited about the costume – if Kurt wasn't mistaken, he had wanted to be a 'sexy angel' instead, which had made Kurt arch a judging eyebrow at him. If Kurt also remembered correctly, Blaine had broken up with him the next morning. Dylan had only been one of many douchebags, whiny assholes and completely self-centered idiots that Blaine had had the misfortune to date.<p>

Kurt couldn't understand how someone as wonderful as Blaine could have such a terrible taste in guys.

When Kurt finally accepted to go to Blaine's Halloween gig-slash-party, they had sat down together and brainstormed ideas for costumes. After a bottle of wine and a very large pizza, they had decided to go as Robin Hood and Little John, one of their favorite pairs from one of their favorite Disney movies. It was kind of perfect for them – except for how they couldn't agree on who would get to be Robin.

"I'm smaller, shouldn't I be Robin?" Blaine asked, frowning as he nibbled on the crust of his pizza slice.

The glare Kurt directed at him would have made the bravest man in the world shrink back in fear. "Are you, by any chance, suggesting I'm _big_, Blaine? You'd better not be calling me fat or we'll end up going as Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman, and you'll be missing your head for real."

Needless to say, Kurt got to be Robin, and Blaine happily accepted to be Little John.

* * *

><p>The bar was packed. Kurt was sitting at a table with Betty Boop, a samurai, Marty McFly, and a fireman. It would have been a pretty unreal situation if it hadn't been because absolutely everyone in the bar – the band on stage, the bartenders, even the bouncers outside – were in costume. He could see Blaine standing next to the stage, waiting for his turn to perform. The band currently playing – a very bizarre Britney Spears cover band – was finishing their last song, and Kurt watched Blaine down the rest of his beer quickly and reach for his guitar, which had been propped against the wall next to him.<p>

As he sat there in a table full of dressed-up strangers, Kurt fidgeted with his own drink, waiting for Blaine and his band to take over. He had been so focused on getting their costumes right the last few days, that he hadn't even thought about he was going to spend most of his night on his own as Blaine played. Other years, Mark would have been sitting next to him, with an arm wrapped around his shoulder, if he didn't have to work. Sometimes Kurt, Blaine, and whatever friends had tagged along with them would end up at Mark's restaurant if he couldn't take the night off.

He hadn't meant for his thoughts to wander in that direction. He tried to focus on how brightly Blaine was smiling as he stepped in front of the microphone and stroke a couple of chords on his guitar.

"Hi everyone! Happy Halloween! We're The Work in Progress! And I know our name sucks," Blaine said, getting closer to the mic and winking at the crowd playfully. "But it's nothing but the plain truth. We hope you enjoy anyway."

They launched into their first song. Most of the patrons were already drunk or on their way to, and didn't seem to care if the music was good or not (it was). They still danced along and whooped whenever they thought it was appropriate.

Blaine on stage was a force to be reckoned with. He was charming, sexy and inviting. He managed to capture everyone's attention while never pulling all the focus from his band mates. He made everyone feel included, but he shone the brightest, because that was what Blaine Anderson did – he breathed music. He _was_ music, and anyone who heard him sing was immediately captivated.

To be honest, Blaine didn't even have to speak or sing to captivate anyone who met him. His smile was enough to melt ice, and his kind hazel eyes were full of warmth. No one ever managed to resist him – Kurt sure hadn't been able to resist him when they had first met.

Kurt had been a very sad boy when he and Blaine crossed paths for the first time. His high school life was full of disappointments, rejection, and fear, and Blaine had been so friendly, warm and welcoming that he hadn't been able to stop himself from falling helplessly in love with him.

Nothing had ever happened – Blaine had been oblivious for a very long time, and had never shown any signs of liking Kurt back. They had kissed once, right after Blaine's senior year of high school, when Kurt was back home for the summer. They had had a few drinks at a party, and they were feeling loose and careless. Their lips had met before they even knew what they were doing. The kiss had been tender, sweet and perfect – Kurt had marveled at how beautifully they fit together, how their lips slotted flawlessly, sliding against each other and sending shivers down his spine. But as soon as they pulled away, they both laughed and continued on as if nothing had happened.

Kurt never told Blaine he had been helplessly in love with him. It would have ruined the most amazing friendship he had ever had. So he kept quiet and eventually managed to move on.

Mark had been the only man to make him feel as much as Blaine had.

The sweetness of Kurt's drink seemed to turn sour in his mouth. It just a few more weeks, it would be two whole months without Mark, and he still couldn't understand how it was possible for him to keep waking up in a world without the love of his life.

What the hell was he doing, wearing a stupid Halloween costume and sitting amongst people who were free to smile, hold hands and kiss whoever they wanted? He was alone – he was an island in the middle of the ocean, and no one could reach him there. His tether had been cut.

Blaine's eyes met his all the way from the stage.

Kurt tried to smile, but it was too hard. Sometimes pretending didn't work out – not even in a Robin Hood costume.

* * *

><p>When Blaine joined him at the table, Betty Boop and Marty McFly had left (and Kurt had never thought he would see Marty shoving his tongue down Betty's throat), so Blaine took one of the empty spots.<p>

"You were amazing," Kurt said with the biggest smile he could muster.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Blaine replied, reaching for Kurt's glass. "What are you drinking? My mouth is so dry, it feels like sandpaper…" He stole a large swig of Kurt's drink before he could even answer, and then turned back to his best friend. "Are you sure you are having a good time? You looked a little distracted there for a while…"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just…" Kurt shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Reminiscing, I guess."

Blaine dropped his chin onto Kurt's shoulder and stared right into his eyes. He was sweaty from playing, his dark curls damp and falling onto his forehead messily. He was so freaking handsome that Kurt suddenly felt as if he was going back in time and turning into the boy he had once been. "Hey, we agreed to leave sadness at home tonight, remember? We're having fun. It's Halloween."

Kurt swallowed and looked away from Blaine's hazel eyes. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm trying."

Blaine watched him so intensely and he was sitting so close to him, that Kurt couldn't help but fidget a little, feeling completely exposed under his gaze. He knew Blaine was able to read him better than anyone else in the world, even better than his father. It was unnerving sometimes.

Blaine put the drink down on the table with a determined look on his face and slid out of the booth. He offered his hand to Kurt. "Let's go."

Kurt frowned in confusion but still accepted his hand. "Where are we going? I thought you wanted to stay here with your friends…"

"Oh trust me," Blaine smiled and squeezed Kurt's hand gently. "I'm with the one friend I really want to be with. They'll understand."

Kurt felt warmth inside, like every time Blaine was being particularly sweet. He truly was deserving of the title of best friend. "You still haven't answered my question, though."

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," Blaine cheekily, tagging him along to make Kurt follow him out of the bar. "Come on!"

It was very cold outside, and Kurt was once again glad he had designed their costumes to protect them against the night chill that ran through New York in the dead of October. He adjusted his hat, making sure the red feather was standing correctly.

He followed Blaine silently for a few blocks, distracted by the strangers walking by in different costumes, internally judging those that weren't well made. He mentally fixed them in his head, although he was particularly benevolent when it came to children's costumes.

He didn't realize Blaine had taken them to a more residential street until he saw that most of the people walking by were actually kids accompanied by parents or older siblings. Blaine climbed the stairs of a brownstone and rang the bell, swaying back and forth on his feet as he waited for the door to open.

"What are you doing? Who lives here?" Kurt asked curiously.

"No idea," Blaine murmured, and before Kurt could question him further, the door opened and Blaine smiled his brightest smile. "Hello there! Trick or treat!"

The young couple that opened the door was carrying a very large bowl filled with candy. They looked surprised to see Kurt and Blaine standing there, and Kurt gaped at Blaine, blushing. What the hell was he doing?

"Blaine," he hissed, looking apologetically at the couple. "Don't be silly…"

"No, no, it's fine!" The woman said, smiling at them widely. "You guys look amazing!" She added, as she dropped a few pieces of candy into Blaine's expecting hands, before turning to Kurt.

He hesitated, while Blaine nudged him with his shoulder. "I don't know…"

"Oh please take it," she insisted kindly. "We bought way too much candy this year. There will be more leftovers than we can actually eat…"

"Okay…" Kurt bit his lip but accepted the candy she was trying to thrust into his hands. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome! Happy Halloween!" The man said.

"Happy Halloween!" Blaine exclaimed, already pulling Kurt down the stairs and towards the next house.

"Are you crazy?" Kurt asked, swatting at Blaine's arm. "We're not kids anymore!"

"So what? We can still have fun, right?" He was already biting off the wrapping off a Kit Kat.

Kurt rolled his eyes, but still stood next to him as Blaine knocked on the next door. This house belonged to an adorable old lady that cooed at them and even insisted on pinching Kurt's cheeks. She gave them lots of chocolate bars, and even two pumpkin-shaped bags so they could put all their candy on.

"You two are so cute," she said, as they waved at her. "Be safe tonight!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Blaine said, tipping his hat at her and almost causing the woman to swoon.

"I'm pretty sure she thought we are a couple," Kurt said, searching through his bag as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Kurt, she gave me a cookies and cream Hershey's chocolate bar. She can think I'm the president's son if she wants to," Blaine replied, and Kurt rolled his eyes at him.

They visited every single house in that block, and few more in the next. Only three houses refused to give them candy because they weren't children. A girl in a Cat Woman costume tried flirting with Blaine and bribing him with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups to get him to go with her to whatever party she was heading to, and a half-naked police officer told Kurt he had a search warrant with his name on it in a very suggestive tone of voice.

It was a very eventful night.

Later, they headed back home on the subway, sitting close together, sandwiched between Tina Turner and one of the Village People. They were looking through their candy bags, surprised at how well they had actually done.

"I'll give you my Kit Kats if you give me your Skittles," Kurt said, and Blaine handed the Skittles over. Kurt opened the bag and popped a few red Skittles into his mouth. He watched Blaine, knowing he was mentally cataloguing all his candy by type, something he did since he was a little kid and his brother took him around the neighborhood trick or treating. He always put his Snickers aside, saving them for Cooper, even though they didn't see each other even remotely as much as Blaine wished they did. Kurt wrapped his arms around one of Blaine's and dropped his head on his shoulder, tickling his cheek with the feather in his hat. He sighed. "Thank you so much for tonight. I had a lot of fun, and you were amazing, both at the bar and after."

Blaine kissed his forehead. "Are you saying that to get me to hand over my gummy bears?" He teased playfully.

Kurt nuzzled tiredly against the curve of his neck, feeling a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "I love you."

Blaine smiled too, and Kurt could feel it where his lips were still pressed against his forehead. "I love you, too."

* * *

><p>On Sunday, Blaine stopped by one of their favorite coffee shops and got Kurt's favorite chai latte before heading to his best friend's apartment. They hadn't made plans per se, but Blaine thought maybe he could convince him to head down to 42nd street and watch a matinee show together.<p>

However, as soon as he entered the apartment, he found Kurt surrounded by piles of clothes and cardboard boxes. His eyes were slightly red, but he wasn't crying, at least not anymore. Blaine dropped his keys on the bowl by the door and walked slowly into the living room.

"Kurt?" He called, because his friend hadn't seemed to notice he was there yet.

Kurt looked up, surprised. "Oh, hey," he said in a soft voice, though he managed to smile at him.

"Hey. I got you some tea," Blaine put it down on the coffee table before sitting down on the floor next to him. "What are you up to?"

"I'm sorting through Mark's stuff," he replied quietly, and he looked proud when his voice didn't crack on his fiancé's name. "There are tons of clothes he hadn't worn in ages. I think I'm going to donate them somewhere. I'm sure someone will find a better use for them…"

Blaine placed his hand on top of Kurt's. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, his hazel eyes searching in Kurt's blue ones. "I know I told you that you needed to do this at some point, but if you're not ready…"

"No, you were right," Kurt muttered, carefully folding a white dress shirt. "It's just stuff. It's not him. And I can't keep pretending to be someone else, or to hope that by keeping his things around something will magically change. A bunch of shirts and pants aren't going to magically bring him back. Nothing will." He placed the shirt into a box labeled 'donations'. "I think, deep down inside, I was wishing for something magical to happen. I was a fool."

"You're not a fool," Blaine reassured him. "There's nothing wrong with that. You miss him. You can't help it."

Kurt shrugged, trying to look nonchalant and failing completely. "I guess."

Blaine looked around at the piles of clothes. "Do you need any help?" He offered. "If you want to be alone for this, I can give you some time."

"No, stay. Please," Kurt squeezed his hand.

"Of course," Blaine settled more comfortably and reached for a red sweater. When he unfolded it, he discovered it had a huge reindeer with a Santa hat on and big, red nose that sparkled. "Oh my god."

Kurt actually laughed when he saw it. "He hated that sweater," he said, reaching for it. "His mother got him for him years ago and insisted that he wear it every single Christmas. It was torture for him. _And_ for me. I couldn't even kiss him when he was wearing it. He kind of turned it into a game – he would fill every single corner with mistletoe, or catch me off guard." He ran a hand down the thick, red wool, smile turning gentler. "I think his mom would love to have it…" He put it into another box, labeled 'Martha'. It was the first item he put into it.

They went through all the clothes and Kurt had anecdotes for a good amount of them. He laughed and cried, and slowly filled each of the boxes, but Blaine could see it was therapeutic for him. He decided to keep Mark's college hoodie; his uniform from the first restaurant he had worked at, because it had been so precious to Mark; the sweater Mark had worn for their first date, and the shirt he was wearing when he proposed.

Blaine sat next to him patiently, offering support whenever Kurt needed it, listening to every story, and allowing Kurt to have a moment when he remembered something that was particularly emotional. They got through it together, like many other moments in each other's lives – they had learned that there was nothing they couldn't overcome if they had each other's backs.

Afterwards, they sat on the couch, looking at the full boxes stacked against the living room wall. Kurt was tucked against Blaine's side, spent but feeling a little lighter. Blaine pressed a kiss to his temple – a silent reminder that he was right there – and hoped that this was the first step towards true recovery.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much for reading! Please review!<strong>

**I will try to update on Friday before the episode this week, since I won't be around the weekend after that.**

**Have a wonderful week!**

**Happy Valentine's Day xoxo**

**L.-**


	5. Guilt

**Happy Glee day everybody!**

**Like I said, I'm updating early this week because I won't be around this weekend. I'm sure you don't mind!**

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this story. I can't tell you how much it means to me.**

**Thank you to my lovely betas, Wutif and Christine, for their help with this chapter – and all the other ones!**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

><p>Kurt woke up slowly. His face was pressed against his pillow, and he was comfortable and warm, pleasantly so. He could feel the softness of his sheets against his bare back, and he refused to open his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the glory of the last few seconds of unconsciousness.<p>

He shifted slightly, only enough to bury himself deeper into the mattress, and that caused his cock to grace against it, ripping a moan from him. He hadn't noticed he was hard and aching, but once the arousal hit, he couldn't ignore the urgency coursing through his body.

Still with his eyes closed, Kurt reached towards the left side of the bed, blindly looking for the man next to him. There was nothing Kurt loved more than lazy morning sex – the slowness of it, how they usually draw it out to make it last, trading luscious kisses first that soon would grow in intensity until their bodies were burning for more. If neither had to work that day, they would spend a few hours in bed, allowing hands and mouths to roam for as long as they wanted to. Kurt could spend hours just lapping at the sensitive spot on Mark's torso, the one that turned him into a puddle of desire and breathy moans.

However, his fingertips only touched the cool sheets. The left side of his bed was empty, and finding that emptiness felt like getting hit by a truck – the memories and the reality came back so quickly that it was as if all the air in his lungs evaporated, leaving him gaping for breath.

He opened his eyes and glanced towards the side where he had found Mark sleeping next to him the past few years. It wasn't the first time since his death that Kurt woke up confused and convinced he would find his fiancé there. Still, it didn't matter how many times it happened – the disappointment and the pang of pain in his chest were always sharp and -strong.

Even though Kurt's heart had gotten the message, it seemed like his body did not. He was still hard, and when he shifted to look up at the ceiling, even the faintest touch of the mattress or the sheets made his body shudder in desperation. He and Mark had used to be intimate on a very regular basis, and it seemed like his body didn't understand that the man who satisfied its every need wasn't there anymore. It kept yearning for Mark's touch as if nothing had happened.

Kurt ignored his aching erection and got out of bed, walking straight into the bathroom. He was getting used to taking extremely cold showers every morning.

* * *

><p>November brought busy days for Kurt. He was getting ready for the Christmas sales, so he was working more than ever. It was a fantastic excuse to keep himself occupied and to push any non-work-related thoughts far, far away.<p>

"You look particularly cranky today," Anna commented, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the doorway, watching Kurt finish the hem on a dress. "Everything alright?"

Kurt had woken up that morning after a very heated sex dream, but as soon as he had taken himself in hand, his head was filled with memories – images of him and Mark tangled together in the sheets, bodies moving in harmony, pleasure ripping through their veins. He had forced himself to stop, but the cold shower that followed didn't help. He would need to look for a better technique.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just want to finish this."

"Do you want me to get you a coffee?" She offered kindly. Kurt glanced at her. Today, her hair was purple and it clashed spectacularly with her furiously red lips.

"No, thanks."

His tone was so biting that she raised her hands in sign of peace, before turning around and walking out of the office. Kurt felt bad – Anna was a doll, and he could always count on her for everything. But he couldn't contain himself. He was in a terrible mood, confused and aching deep down inside.

He didn't know how to deal with being sexually frustrated and practically a widower at the same time. Somehow, he felt like he was a bad person for feeling like this – there were so many other things he missed about Mark, and sex wasn't _that_ important, even though it had been fantastic. He couldn't stop his body from focusing on the lack of intimacy and satisfaction, but he wished he could deal with it a little better.

He felt so guilty and disgusting whenever he tried to touch himself and find relief, and thinking about Mark seemed to make it all worse. He had been a very attractive man who had known exactly which buttons to push to take Kurt to the edge and make him explode, but he was gone. Mark was dead. And Kurt couldn't jerk off to his dead fiancé.

God, he was so sick.

He bit his lip and shook his head. He would get through this. It wasn't the worst part of this. If Kurt had managed to survive the past two months without Mark, then he could live without sex just fine.

* * *

><p>Kurt poured himself a bit more wine and sat back against the couch. "If she picks the first house, then she's an idiot," he said, his eyes already fixed on the television. He and Blaine were catching up on some of their favorite reality shows after a very long week.<p>

Blaine, however, wasn't exactly active in the conversation. He hummed in response in a way that Kurt wasn't sure if he was agreeing or disagreeing.

Kurt turned to him. "Are you alright? You've been really quiet."

"Fine," Blaine downed the rest of his wine and reached for the bottle.

"Are you sure?" Kurt insisted. He knew Blaine too well – when he wasn't smiling, chatting and being his overly enthusiastic adorable self, then something was clearly wrong.

"Yeah, just band stuff. Don't worry about it," Blaine shrugged, but Kurt could see he was actually upset.

"Hey, come on. You know you can talk to me about it," Kurt reached for the remote and paused the show, ignoring Blaine's protests. "Did they reject one of your songs again? If they did, they're idiots. You're the most talented songwriter I know."

"I'm the only songwriter you know, Kurt," Blaine retorted with a little smile.

"So? I don't need to know anyone else to know you are the best," Kurt replied, placing a hand on Blaine's knee and squeezing encouragingly.

Blaine sighed and ran a hand down his face tiredly. "We've had a lot of disagreements lately. Theo's father asked him to help at the family business, so we had to cancel a bunch of rehearsals. We haven't booked as many events as we usually do, so money's a little tight, and everyone's a bit on edge because of it. And Jimmy says he's sick of playing bar mitzvahs and weddings anyway, that we'll never get anywhere playing there…"

"Come here," Kurt patted his lap invitingly and Blaine gratefully slid down until he could rest his head on it. Kurt began massaging his scalp, working his fingers through his curls. "What does Georgina say?"

"Not much, really. But I think she agrees with Jimmy," Blaine said, letting his eyes fall shut. "We really aren't getting anywhere, but we still haven't figured out a way to do what we love while being able to pay the bills with it…"

"Maybe you can try touring around the bars in the area? That will make them a little happier and you'll reach a broader audience," Kurt suggested thoughtfully. "Keep booking events, though, if it's a good source of income. I know of a lot of restaurants that like to hire bands to offer little concerts for their patrons while they're having dinner. I could try to call some of Mark's friends… I know a few of them owned places that would be perfect for that…"

Blaine smiled up at him. "You don't have to. We should figure this out on our own. And I don't want to commit to anything new if we don't know if the drummer will make it…" He paused and exhaled. "I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who stills gives a damn about it."

Kurt leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry things aren't working out like you expected them to. You're amazing, Blaine. You should be touring around the country playing for thousands of people each night. Your time will come, I'm sure of it."

Blaine hummed a little more happily and caught Kurt's hand, hugging it to his chest. "But you're still going to be my number one fan, right?"

Kurt smiled fondly and brushed his curls out of his forehead. "Always."

* * *

><p>Kurt's problem got worse in just a few days.<p>

He startled awake one morning, so aroused it was painful, hard and aching in his boxer briefs, feeling feverish and panting as if he had been running a marathon instead of sleeping. Before he could even realize what he was doing, he was shoving his underwear down and taking his cock in his hand. He jerked himself off desperately, practically sobbing into the crook of his elbow where he was hiding his face. It was rough and too dry, but it was more than he had gotten the past couple of months, and he couldn't stop. He stroked himself raw, with his eyes shut tightly.

Behind his eyelids, he was suddenly with images – Mark kissing the inside of his thighs as he looked up at Kurt teasingly; Kurt taking Mark's cock in his hand, and reveling in the weight of it in his palm; Mark's body arching up in pleasure as he came in pearly strings over his stomach…

He tried to push the images away, to conjure new ones, to stop completely, but he was too far gone.

"Oh, oh…" Kurt gasped, as his body thrashed against the sheets uncontrollably. "_Mark_…"

His cock throbbed in his hand as it spurted come all over his chest, stomach and fingers. The orgasm washed over him like a wave, leaving him soaked in sweat and breathless.

It took him a whole minute to open his eyes, but as soon as he did, he curled up on himself and began crying bitterly into his pillow.

* * *

><p>Since that morning, Kurt felt sick and dirty, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he had done something wrong. He knew deep down inside that his body's response had been natural, and that he had been with Mark for so long that he didn't know how to fantasize without thinking of him. But his stomach contracted in disgust whenever he thought of it.<p>

He was sulky and taciturn, and both Anna and Blaine had begun to notice. He managed to brush off their inquiries – Anna was his employee, even if he considered her a friend, and he would never talk about it with her. Blaine… Kurt was afraid that Blaine would judge him and be as disgusted with him as Kurt felt. He couldn't risk that. Blaine had been his main support since Mark's death. He couldn't get through this without him, and he didn't even want to try.

Instead, he tried to find another way in which he could focus all the pent-up energy he wasn't spending sexually. He couldn't allow himself to give in like that other morning.

When it came to exercising, Kurt usually preferred yoga or aerobics, and he had Richard Simmons tapes hidden in the back of his closet. He had never been a gym kind of guy. But this time, he knew he needed a change. So he took up running.

He would wake up a little earlier, put on his yoga pants and a comfortable hoodie, and take the subway to Central Park. He put on his earbuds and hit play on his iPod, letting the music guide him. As his feet pounded against the pavement, he controlled his breathing – in, out, in, out. He felt free, lighter, powerful. He could do anything he wanted.

It worked. Miraculously, it worked.

So he turned it into a habit. It allowed him to unwind first thing in the morning, and he felt more in control of himself by the time he walked into the boutique. Getting up earlier and getting consistent exercise also meant he was a lot more tired when he got into bed at night, so he usually slept like a baby – dream-free.

It wouldn't be a solution forever, but it was a solution now, and Kurt was grateful for it.

* * *

><p>They had dinner at Blaine's one night, and they used the opportunity to buy their plane tickets to fly home for Thanksgiving. Kurt wasn't particularly looking forward to the holidays this year, for obvious reasons, and Blaine was always wary of going home and facing his family.<p>

"My parents still think I'm wasting my time with the band, that I'm not doing anything meaningful with my life, and that I need to grow up…" Blaine grunted in frustration. "You know what, they're right. And I don't want to admit it."

"They are not right…" Kurt assured him, but Blaine would have none of it.

"Yes, they are, Kurt. I don't even know where I'm going to be standing in a month. Nothing in my life is certain," Blaine replied, dropping his head back against the couch. "And that will be nothing compared to when they start with the relationship-status questions."

"At least they are more open to you being gay now?" Kurt offered hesitantly. In the last few years, Blaine's parents had stopped ignoring the huge, rainbow-colored elephant in the room, and finally accepted that their son _probably_ wouldn't end up marrying a nice girl and have a couple of kids before he was thirty five.

Blaine whined and hid his face in the crook of Kurt's shoulder. Kurt decided it was time to open a bottle of wine.

They had gotten so lost in conversation that they didn't realize it was getting late, until Kurt glanced at the clock and noticed it was close to midnight. He needed to go home and get some sleep or he wouldn't be able to function in the morning. So he planted a quick kiss to the top of Blaine's head and rushed out of the apartment and to the subway station.

It wasn't until he got home that he noticed he didn't have his cell phone with him, and realized he had left it at Blaine's.

That was why the next morning, before heading to Central Park for his now usual workout, Kurt entered Blaine's apartment quietly, using his own key. It was very early and he didn't want to wake his best friend, so he searched around as quietly as he could.

Just as he spotted his phone caught between the cushions in the couch, he heard a muffled sound coming from Blaine's bedroom. He stopped and frowned, wondering if he had heard correctly… and then he heard it again.

At first he thought Blaine was having a bad dream or something and he was whining in his sleep. He knew how horrible those were and how terrible it was to wake up alone. So he walked towards the parted bedroom door and peeked inside, ready to wake his best friend if he really was having a nightmare.

He definitely wasn't expecting to see Blaine on his back, with the sheets kicked off to the foot of the bed, his legs spread, and completely naked.

Kurt barely managed to stop the gasp that he could feel rising in his throat.

Blaine wasn't only naked – he was touching himself slowly, leisurely, clearly enjoying every drag of his hand on his cock. There was a bottle of lube on the nightstand and Kurt could see how his fingers and cock glistened with it in the dim light of the room.

Blaine made the prettiest needy sounds Kurt had ever heard, biting his lip as he bucked his hips up, pushing his cock through his fist. His other hand was roaming teasingly over his chest, going down lazily, until he reached between his parted legs and beyond his balls, down to his…

Kurt turned away sharply, closing his eyes. What the hell was he doing, standing there like a creep, _watching his best friend as he masturbated_?

Blaine's breathing became louder, filling the otherwise silent apartment, and he moaned desperately, clearly close to the edge. He was like a symphony and the crescendos were stunning and overwhelming…

Kurt didn't stay around to hear the rest of it. The guilt that settled deep in his belly pushed him out the apartment and to the street, where he let the November chill hit his overheated skin, and ignored the bulge tenting his yoga pants.

That day he ran faster and for longer than he often did, as the trees of Central Park became a blur around him.

* * *

><p>If Kurt had felt guilty jerking off to memories of his fiancé, he felt just as guilty jerking off to images of Blaine.<p>

As soon as he made it home from the park, he jumped into the shower. He was hard and aching, and the run hadn't helped for long, even though he had tried his best. He could still hear Blaine's moans as if they were echoing against the tiled-walls of his bathroom. He wrapped his fingers around his cock, needing some kind of relief, and he was stroking himself to orgasm before he even knew what he was doing.

He came so hard he had to wipe the walls clean afterwards.

* * *

><p>The days before they left for Ohio were pretty hectic – Kurt needed to leave everything in order at the boutique so Anna wouldn't have trouble during the big Black Friday sales. He had hired two more girls to help during the holiday season, and asked her if she was sure she could handle everything. Anna had assured him she would be fine. She didn't say it, but she knew Kurt needed to be with his family. The holidays were always difficult, but this year… he just felt completely hopeless.<p>

He and Blaine shared a cab to the airport, and for the first thirty minutes Kurt couldn't even look at him. Fortunately, Blaine was too asleep to notice, and limited himself to drool over the shoulder of Kurt's coat while they waited to board their plane.

Kurt was doing his best not to picture him naked.

He had indulged in his fantasies three other times before he forced himself to stop. He felt a lot better physically, but the guilt was consuming him. But when he balanced whether he felt worse thinking about Blaine than he felt about thinking about Mark… the truth was that he felt sicker when he allowed himself to think of Mark in that scenario. It didn't seem fair to his memory – like he was turning him into a mere masturbatory fantasy, depriving him of all the other beautiful qualities that Kurt had loved him for.

It didn't mean that thinking about Blaine that way wasn't wrong, because it was, but Kurt at least could explain and apologize if it ever came to that. He could do something to fix his mistake, but there was nothing he could to make it up to Mark.

"Are you excited about seeing your dad?" Blaine asked sleepily, snapping Kurt out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, it'll be nice to spend some time with him," Kurt replied, taking a sip from his Starbucks cup. "He's been calling me three times a day. I don't want him to worry so much about me. I don't need him to have a heart attack on top of everything else…"

"He can't help it," Blaine shrugged, not even bothering to open his eyes and burrowing deeper against Kurt's coat. "He just wants to make sure you're okay…"

"He calls you too, doesn't he?" Kurt asked, with an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"Yup. Every day," Blaine replied, before stopping for a yawn. "I don't mind, though. I wish my dad would care that much…"

"Aw, honey. Your dad cares… he just doesn't know how to show it," Kurt rubbed his back soothingly. Blaine didn't say anything, which meant he didn't agree with Kurt. "Do you want to come over and stay with us? You don't have to be at your house all weekend if you don't want to…"

"No, I'll be fine," Blaine assured him. "You need time with your family, and I have to be with mine, even if it sounds like an awful idea sometimes."

"You're my family, too," Kurt whispered, and he felt Blaine's lips curling up into a smile against his shoulder. "Don't you forget that."

Blaine nuzzled his way up to his shoulder. He was the most adorable thing when he was sleepy. "And you're mine."

They boarded the plane holding hands.

* * *

><p>Burt was waiting for them at the airport in Ohio, and as soon as he spotted Kurt through the crowd, he took three long strides towards him, and pulled his son right into his arms. He held him so tightly that it seemed as if he was never going to let go. Blaine stood behind for a moment, watching them. Burt's face was scrunched up as if he was trying not to cry – it must have been so difficult to be apart from Kurt when he knew he was suffering so much.<p>

"Hi, kiddo," he whispered.

There was a watery smile on Kurt's lips. "Hi, Dad."

Burt pulled away enough to look at him, clear eyes wandering over him as if he wanted to make sure he was in one piece. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm glad to be home," Kurt replied, but the sadness was still visible in his eyes. Blaine knew it would be there for a while. Burt knew it too, better than anyone.

Burt dropped a quick kiss on Kurt's forehead and pulled away, clearing his throat. He finally looked at Blaine and opened his arms, invitingly. "Nice to see you again, buddy."

"Nice to see you too, Burt," Blaine replied, going in for the hug easily. Not for the first – or the last – time, he wished his Dad would take parenting lessons from Burt Hummel.

Burt lowered his voice and murmured right into Blaine's ear, hoping Kurt wouldn't hear. "Thanks for keeping an eye on my boy."

"No problem," Blaine gave him a pat on the back when they parted. If there was one thing they had in common, that was how much they cared about Kurt. Kurt was the most important person in their lives, and that had been what had made them bond all those years ago. They shared a smile that said more than they could in words. "Alright. I'd better go. My Dad said there would be a car waiting for me, so I should find it…"

Burt frowned. "Are you sure? We could drive you…"

Blaine shook his head. "Oh, no, it's fine. You two have a lot of catching up to do." He kissed Kurt's cheek. "I'll call you, okay? Have fun."

"You too. Let me know if you change your mind about staying with us," Kurt said, his blue eyes staring straight into his. "I'm serious, Blaine. You can just drop by whenever you need to."

"Thanks," Blaine said sincerely.

They parted ways, and Blaine couldn't resist looking over his shoulder and watching them walk away. Burt had his arm around Kurt's shoulders, and they seemed to be talking already, their heads tilted towards the other as if they didn't want to miss a word.

Blaine ignored the pang of longing he usually felt when he saw Burt and Kurt together, and went searching for his own ride home.

* * *

><p>It was the first time they were alone since Kurt had arrived. Carole and Finn had been so happy to see him, they had barely left his side. They all went out for lunch together, sharing a booth and eating greasy cheeseburgers (Kurt asked Burt to order a vegetarian burger, and Burt complied without complains for once. Anything for his little boy), chatting and chatting. They filled Kurt in on everything that had been going on in Lima in the past few months, and not once did they mention New York, the wedding or the tragedy that had changed Kurt's life.<p>

But now Burt and he were alone in the kitchen, sitting at the table across from each other. Finn had gone home, and Carole had excused herself and gone upstairs – Kurt was sure she had known they needed some one on one time, father and son.

"So… how are you, Kurt?" Burt asked, cutting straight to the chase. "For real."

Kurt smiled sadly. Even though he had acted normally in front of everyone else, he knew his father could read him better than that. He could see what was really going on under the surface. "I'm… managing. I don't know what else to tell you. I'm not okay, but I've been worse."

"Blaine said going back to work helped," Burt commented.

"Yeah, it did. It's a good distraction, and I couldn't neglect it forever. Bills keep coming even if you feel like your life is paralyzed," Kurt rolled his eyes and laughed bitterly. "Blaine helped, too, especially. He's… I don't know if I would have been capable of coming back here if it hadn't been for him. I would probably be hiding under the bed to avoid admitting this is my new reality…"

"It sounds awful, but… you'll get used to it, kiddo," Burt said, laying his hand on top of Kurt's. "You'll always miss him, you'll never stop loving him… but you'll be able to move on. Life will make sense again."

Kurt had been so lost in his own pain that he hadn't realized his father was the perfect person to talk to about this. "How did you do it, after Mom died?"

Burt sighed. "I was a mess…"

"No, you weren't," Kurt frowned in confusion. "You were so put together. Sometimes I wasn't sure you even missed her. I mean, I knew you were sad, but… you didn't seem to have trouble moving on…"

"Kurt, it was the hardest thing I have ever done," Burt said, wide-eyed and honestly surprised. "I missed her so much I thought my heart would split in two. I don't think I really moved on and realized I was allowed to be happy again until I met Carole…"

"Then why did you always seem so under control?" Kurt asked, sounding baffled.

"I had you," Burt said simply. "You were the reason I got out of bed every morning. I had a kid that depended completely on me. He needed me, so I pushed through it. I told myself I was only allowed to focus on my own pain once you were in bed. I spent so many months crying in my room until dawn…"

"Dad…" Kurt squeezed his hand and felt tears building in his eyes. "You shouldn't have. We could have gotten through it together…"

"I know that now. You were always so strong, Kurt. But I had no idea what I was doing," Burt explained, shaking his head. "I was mad at her for a while, you know. She left me all alone with you, and you kept crying and calling for her in dreams, waking up from nightmares and screaming for your Mom, and I… I just felt so inadequate. I wished a million times that it had been me instead."

"You did a wonderful job, Dad," Kurt smiled through his tears. "You're the best father I could have ever had."

"And I couldn't have asked for a better, stronger kid. That's why I know you'll be okay – because you've been through this before and there's nothing that can knock you down," Burt murmured proudly.

Kurt looked down and pulled his hand slowly from his father's grasp. "I don't know. It's not the same. It feels so much more intense than when Mom died…" He hid his face in his hands. "I don't have a kid to keep me from drowning, Dad, no one depending on me. I'm on my own. He left me on my own. It's been two months and I still can't believe he's gone. I look for him every day. I wonder if there would have been a way to avoid this…"

"Don't do that," Burt retorted. "There's no use in doing that to yourself. It will only set you back."

"I can't help it…" Kurt shrugged tiredly. "Didn't you do that with Mom?"

"Of course I did," Burt answered softly. "But I knew that there was nothing I could have done. I'm not a doctor, Kurt, I wouldn't have been able to get rid of her cancer. I took her to all the best doctors and did everything I could to make her healthy and happy, but in the end… it just wasn't up to me."

"I just feel like I have all these questions I'll never have answers for," Kurt kept his eyes fixed on the table top, his fingers gripping the wooden edge. "I'm lost and confused, and nothing makes sense. There are days I get up, and the pain is there, and I carry it with me everywhere, but I'm resigned, so I just go on. And then there are days when I'm completely paralyzed by his absence. I don't know what to do…"

"I can't tell you how or when, Kurt, but it'll get better. You'll learn how to deal with it. Just don't let the grief dictate your life. I'm glad you went back to work, and that you have people like Blaine to lean on," Burt reached for his hands and helped him relax his clasp on the table. "Mark wouldn't want to hold you back. He would have done anything to make you happy. I bet he's looking down on you now, wishing he could tell you that himself."

Kurt glanced up at his father. His eyes were still full of tears. "Do you believe that? Do you really think Mark's in Heaven?"

"Yeah, I do. I bet your mother was waiting for him and gave him a big hug when he got up there. I think they're up there together now, watching you, proud of how strong you have been…" Burt said, and Kurt sniffed, still trying to hold back the tears. "Don't you think so?"

"I… I don't. I can't believe in those things," Kurt shook his head bitterly. He focused on his father sadly, looking so exhausted that Burt wanted to carry him upstairs and tuck him in like a child. "But… would you believe for me?"

Burt smiled at him, heart aching for his little boy. "Of course, Kurt. I can believe for the both of us."

"Thank you, Dad."

"Anytime, kiddo."

* * *

><p>Just as Kurt had predicted, Blaine was too overwhelmed and stressed to stay with his family any longer, so he texted Kurt late on Friday night and asked if his offer was still on the table.<p>

On Saturday morning, Kurt opened the door to find him standing there, clearly relieved to see his best friend.

"It was _that_ bad, huh?" Kurt asked in sympathy, scrunching up his nose.

"My Mom tried to sign me up for online dating, and my Dad told me there was nothing wrong with admitting defeat and looking for a new career path. He said he would pay for my tuition if I decided to go back to college and study something _relevant_," Blaine explained in a desperate, exhausted tone. "And Cooper's fiancé is pregnant."

"Oh wow. I'm sorry, sweetie," Kurt pulled him into a hug. "Not about the pregnancy news, though. That's nice. You're going to be an uncle!"

"Yeah. I'm really happy for Cooper," he said, still sounding miserable, nuzzling against Kurt's neck. "But I wish it didn't mean my parents are going to look at me pointedly because I, as a gay man, cannot give them grandchildren. Like seriously, what century are they from?"

"You'll prove them wrong when you have beautiful babies with curly hair and big gold eyes like yours," Kurt dropped a kiss to his temple. "At least they are more supportive even if they don't know how to show it, right? I mean, ten years ago they wouldn't even acknowledge your sexuality…"

"I guess," Blaine sighed, still not letting go of him. They were quiet for a moment or two, and then Blaine asked, "Did you have a nice Thanksgiving?"

"It was okay," Kurt replied, as they finally pulled away, and Blaine grabbed his bag again. He followed Kurt into the living room. "I can't say I was feeling particularly grateful or festive, but… it's nice to be with my family. They make things easier."

"Well, if it means anything at all, this year, just like every other year… I was grateful for you," Blaine said sweetly, earning a kiss on the cheek.

Burt entered the living room then and smiled when he spotted Blaine. "Hey kid! Nice to have you home!"

Blaine smiled back at him brightly. "It's good to be home, Burt," he replied.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much for reading! Please review!<strong>

**Enjoy the episode ;)**

**See you next week!**

**L.-**


	6. Anger

**Happy Saturday, everybody!**

**I hope you've all had a wonderful week. Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review this little story of mine :)**

**Lots of love for my betas, Wutif and Christine.**

**I own nothing.**

**This is a long one, so get comfy and let's get to it!**

* * *

><p>Thanksgiving was barely over before Christmas exploded onto the scene, overdressed for the party. There were Santas at every subway station, carols playing everywhere, and stores were glittering with tinsel and lights. And, as was her tradition, Rachel sent out her annual ChristmasHanukah party invitations.

Kurt wouldn't be going back to Ohio for Christmas, so he knew he would have to go, whether he was in the mood for a party or not. Burt and Carole would be coming to New York to spend the holiday with him, while Finn went to Kentucky to spend a few days with his girlfriend's family. But he had no time to think about parties now – December was one of the busiest times for him, so he usually stayed late at the boutique to work on new pieces, leaving long after the store closed. Weekends he went to the Garment District to find new fabric, and at night when he couldn't sleep, he would sketch designs, with a movie playing in the background to keep him company.

Blaine had seen Kurt immersed in this seasonal design frenzy before so he wasn't unduly worried, but he did make sure to regularly stop by Kurt's apartment to ensure he was at least eating, instead of working himself into a collapse.

"Honey, I'm home!" He called on a Sunday morning, arms loaded with grocery bags, and pushing the front door closed behind him with his butt.

Kurt grunted in response, took a sip from his cold coffee before grimacing and pushing the cup away, and lifted the sketch he was working on so Blaine could see it. "Does this jacket look right to you? There's something wrong with it and I can't figure out what."

Blaine hitched the groceries a little higher in his arms, careful not to drop anything and walked towards Kurt, squinting down at the drawing. "Uhm. Yeah, why do you think something's wrong? I like the colors… is that indigo?"

"Yeah, and coral," Kurt said, putting the sketch back down on the table and taking another look at it, frowning. "The pattern is supposed to be geometrical, but maybe it won't be very flattering once you see it on someone…"

Blaine studied it for a couple more seconds. "What's that line there? The one that seems to cut the jacket in two. What would it look like if you get rid of it?"

Kurt blinked and then gasped. "Oh my god, you're a genius! Of course! It shortens the torso and it looks so weird! Why did I put that there?" He immediately started erasing the line, careful not to ruin the rest of the design.

"I'm happy to be of service," Blaine smiled, and finally turned towards the kitchen. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No," Kurt replied distractedly. "Just coffee."

"Of course," Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm making brunch. Do you want to help?"

"Let me just fix this and I'll be right there with you," Kurt said.

"Fine, but I'm dragging you into the kitchen in twenty minutes, and you're not allowed to get back to your sketches or even think about work until tomorrow morning. And I'm being nice," Blaine said, pointing at him with a spatula and trying to look menacing, which he never succeeded at.

Kurt looked at him, appalled, but knew there was no use in arguing with Blaine – he was very good at making Kurt stop and take a break when he needed one and wasn't aware of it.

Once their brunch was ready, they settled on the floor with their backs against the couch, and their food spread over the coffee table. Blaine insisted on watching cartoons, claiming it would help Kurt decompress after such a long week. He couldn't really complain about that.

Kurt stole a bite of pancakes from Blaine's plate. "So, any news? How was your week? We didn't get to talk much."

"It was okay, I guess," Blaine replied, as he returned the favor by stealing some bacon from Kurt. "I may have to quit the band, though…"

"What? Why?" Kurt said, frowning.

"Theo quit, and Georgina and Jimmy are determined to go on a tour," Blaine explained tiredly. He was so done with all this drama. "They want to use her brother's van and just travel around the country and play in as many bars as they possibly can. They told me I can either join them or quit. They are going to find a new drummer, so it wouldn't be much trouble to hold audition for a new vocalist and keyboardist."

"Oh, Blaine, that sucks," Kurt scooted closer and rubbed a hand over his arm comfortingly. "It's very shitty of them to tell you that. You've worked your ass off for this band. They should give you the chance to find other alternatives…"

"Yeah, well, they are not," Blaine shrugged as if it didn't matter, but Kurt could see in his eyes that he was genuinely upset. "They haven't even booked any gigs, they just want to go and see what happens. It sounds like a lot of fun, and it sure is an adventure, but I can't help thinking it's more a waste of time and money. I can't give up my apartment or pay rent while I'm on the road just so it sits there empty until I come back god knows when. I can't just cancel on all the kids I tutor – I'm really counting on that money, and they are truly great."

"So… you're not gonna go? Are you sure you don't want it? Don't let this go just because it's the practical thing to do," Kurt smiled at him encouragingly. "If you really want it, go for it, sweetheart."

Blaine's eyes fixed on his for a moment. His gaze was so intense that Kurt's breath hitched in his throat. Slowly, Blaine shook his head, still looking at him. "No. I can't go."

A chill ran down Kurt's spine. For some reason, he decided it was better if he didn't ask any more questions.

* * *

><p>Something had changed. Blaine had noticed it before their trip to Ohio for Thanksgiving. He would catch Kurt watching every now and then – his eyes would turn into a darker shade of blue and wander across his face, his arms, his chest. Usually, Kurt cleared his throat and looked away, immediately changing the subject or turning the TV on, or suddenly remembering he was supposed to be elsewhere.<p>

And every time Kurt's eyes lingered a little longer than normal, Blaine stopped breathing.

It was probably time to be a hundred percent honest with himself – he was in love with Kurt. He had been in love with Kurt since they were sixteen years old, back when they thought winning trophies with their show choirs was the be-all and end-all. When they had kissed that summer, in the darkness of Noah Puckerman's patio and with lips that tasted like cheap beer and hope, Blaine had been too scared to lose his best friend to actually do something about it. Kurt was the first genuine friend he had ever had – the kind that lasted forever, if he played his cards right. And he had played them right, because Kurt was still in his life, and Blaine couldn't imagine living it without him by his side.

Deep down inside, Blaine knew that all of his relationships had failed because he couldn't find a single guy who could measure up to Kurt, who could make his heart race like Kurt did, who would make him feel happy and safe like Kurt did. And still, even though he loved him desperately, he had been so thrilled when Kurt and Mark fell in love.

Mark had approached him once, shortly after they first met, frowning in concern and fidgeting slightly. "Can I ask you a question, Blaine?"

"Sure, what's up?" Blaine had turned the TV volume down to show he was listening, even though his eyes were still fixed on the Buckeyes game he had been watching.

"Is there anything going on with you and Kurt?" Mark asked, rather bluntly, and Blaine did tear his eyes from the television then. His eyebrows were up in surprise. "I'm sorry if it's none of my business, but… you know. Two guys who know each other for as long as you two have known each other, who are best friends and share absolutely everything… sometimes you behave more like a couple than friends. I just… I just want to make sure there's nothing there. And if there is… then I would like to know before I fall for Kurt any harder."

Mark had been so honest and kind about it, had looked so nervous and hopeful, that Blaine had patted his knee in comfort, and shook his head. "You have nothing to worry about. He's head over heels for you."

Mark smiled in relief, but he was still studying Blaine intently. "And… what about you?"

Blaine blinked, at a loss for words. Telling Mark the truth might cause trouble, but he didn't want to lie either. "I love Kurt more than I have ever loved anyone," he whispered, so Kurt wouldn't hear him from his bedroom, where he was dressing for their date tonight. Mark's eyes widened, clearly shocked, but Blaine stopped him before he said anything. "That's why I would never jeopardize his happiness. I have been in love with him since we were teenagers and I never did anything about it. And I'm not going to now. He means too much to me to risk losing his friendship."

Other guys might have punched him, distrusted him, or tried to make Kurt chose between them, but not Mark. He simply nodded, as if whatever he wanted to know had been answered. He chose to trust Blaine, and right then and there Blaine knew this man was worthy of marrying Kurt someday.

God, if only things hadn't turned tragic at the worst possible moment…

But Blaine had been happy for Kurt when things were alright. Blaine had been content dating without really getting serious with anyone – the guys he knew weren't meet-the-parents material, and definitely not walk-down-the-aisle material. He had awful taste in men, according to Kurt, but Blaine just never told him that he had found the one perfect man, and since he couldn't have him, he had to settle for whatever he could find. He would never love any of those guys like he loved Kurt – a love as pure and strong as this could be felt once in a lifetime – but he could eventually find one who wasn't an absolute moron, who would make him happy enough to want to spend the rest of his life with him.

He could find his happily ever after, even if he wasn't the one ending up with Prince Charming.

That's why he knew that Kurt's lingering looks couldn't mean what he silently dreamed they could mean. Kurt had been acting out of character since Mark's death. This could be anything.

In fact, Kurt was the main reason he didn't jump into Georgina's brother's van to go on that stupid tour. Because yes, it was a stupid tour. They had no plans but to play wherever they wanted to listen to them, and the logical part of Blaine's brain knew that they had more chances of finding someone from a record company while playing in one bar in New York than by playing in every single bar of the other forty nine states. But it sounded like fun, like an adventure, like something to do while you're still allowed to be young and free. Of course Blaine wanted to do it, no matter how inconvenient it was.

But he knew Kurt needed him. He had leaned on Blaine completely since the wedding, and even though Blaine knew how strong and fierce Kurt was, there were times when Kurt had trouble remembering. He needed someone who would give him support unconditionally while he navigated his life in the dark, until he was able to find the one ray of sunshine to feel warm and safe again. And Blaine would be that support for as long as Kurt needed him.

He was his best friend, after all.

* * *

><p>Kurt could feel the rage building day by day, just under the surface. It had been growing stronger for weeks, now that his grief and pain were starting to subside. It was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be able to stop it from bubbling over and spilling everywhere.<p>

First, he was mad at himself.

Every year, Blaine asked Kurt for help with his Christmas presents, because he knew Kurt never got it wrong when it came to shopping. So they met at their favorite coffee shop to caffeinate before they launched on a shopping spree that would last for hours, if their past ones were any indication.

But then Kurt saw the pants Blaine was wearing.

Blaine always wore pants that fit him perfectly. These ones – beautiful red pants that ended just a couple of inches above his shoes, just like Blaine liked them – were tight and hugged his thighs perfectly, exposing his muscles even through the thick fabric. The curve of his ass was practically highlighted, and for a moment, Kurt stared at him, feeling his mouth dry, as his body fought what would have been a very, very uncomfortable and unfortunate reaction.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was turning into a creep.

Kurt had to force himself not to stare at his best friend's butt (and legs, oh how had he never noticed Blaine had such lovely legs?) for the rest of the day. The shopping, often enough to make Kurt forget the rest of the world, was barely a distraction, and when Blaine announced he needed to get a few things for himself, and asked Kurt to approve them for him, Kurt would have sworn he was having palpitations.

He hated himself for this – as well as having fantasies about Blaine during his own _private time_. He wasn't supposed to be looking at other men like this, even if he and Blaine had a history together, and Kurt certainly wasn't blind. Mark was still so present in his life, like he hadn't left at all, like he was away on business but would return soon… and Kurt knew that he wouldn't, but there were times when he still couldn't believe Mark had been taken away from him so quickly, in the blink of an eye…

The second time he got horribly angry, it was worst, because it wasn't at himself, and he couldn't hide it as easily as he had the first time. It was actually at a customer.

The woman was clearly used to getting everything handed to her in a silver platter. Kurt had no idea what she was doing at his store, instead of shopping at the big brands on Fifth Avenue, but every now and then, he got some of those upper class women who wanted to add pieces to their wardrobes that none of their friends would be able to have as well, and when it came to exclusive clothes, Kurt Hummel had begun to be the name on everybody's lips.

She made Anna drag Kurt out from the backroom, claiming that she wanted the designer himself to take care of her business, looking Anna up and down, judging her openly. Anna simply rolled her eyes, not exactly affected by the woman's awful manners, and did what she asked. Kurt was not pleased to be out of his office – he had been working very intently on a new sketch, and they were running a little tight on time with the upcoming holidays. He wasn't in the mood for this.

"How can I help you?" He asked, as politely as he could. The smile seemed strained in his face, but the customer didn't notice.

"I was looking for a dress just like this one," she said, pointing at a beautiful blue cocktail dress. "But this lady is informing me that they only have it in this size. I need it in a smaller size. This looks like it's for an elephant…"

Kurt looked at the dress and back to the woman. "Ma'am, that dress is a size four. It's definitely not for an _elephant_."

She looked down at her own body, fit, small and skinny. "I'm a size zero. I would like this dress in a normal size, please."

"I never make two identical pieces. This the spirit of my boutique. No one has the same design, each is unique." Kurt explained as patiently as he could, although he was certain that Anna had already explained the very same thing. "Anna would be happy to show you the selection of my designs in your size."

"I've already seen them. This is the dress I want. In my size." The woman said pointedly. I've heard good things about your place but if you only cater to fat dumpy people I might as well go to _Target_…"

And Kurt could feel it coming. It travelled up his throat, as he took a step closer to the woman and towered over her. "Listen to me, if you're not too busy with the stick you must have up your ass: if you don't like the dresses I have to offer you, you're most welcome to leave. I cater for every type of woman and man, and if you have a problem with that, then I recommend you try finding something elsewhere. And even if I had another dress in your size that you wanted to buy, I'm afraid I'd rather not do business with people who discriminate others based on how they look. I'd rather weigh a million pounds instead of being such a horrible person, who, by the way, clearly needs to stop with the spray tan." He looked her up and down just as she had done with Anna, raising an eyebrow at her very unflattering orange-ish skin tone.

The woman simply stared at him, mouth agape, completely shocked. "I…"

"Good day to you," Kurt said, before turning on his heels and marching back into his office.

Anna followed him only a few seconds later, after he heard the door closing behind the surely still-bewildered woman. He was standing by his desk, leaning with his palms pressed on top of it, breathing with difficulty.

"Uhm… I'm sort of afraid to ask, but are you alright?" She was wide-eyed and just as surprised as the customer had been.

"Yes," he replied sharply, still struggling to keep his temper under control. "I just need a minute."

"Of course," Anna said, taking a few steps back. "Just let me know if you need anything – you know, talking, a drink, a valium…"

Kurt must have glared at her pretty dangerously, because Anna simply raised her hands in defense and backed out of the office as quickly as she could.

He couldn't understand why he was so angry all the time – he felt completely lost in his emotions, and his reactions surprised him just as much as they surprised others. But he didn't really have to think much to realize why he was so upset.

He was angry at Mark. It was completely irrational. Mark didn't choose to die on their wedding day. But he couldn't help being mad that Mark had left him alone to travel through this life on his own, when it should have been the two of them against the world for the rest of their lives. He had left Kurt with a long list of things they planned to do, lost because the path he had planned to walk was meant for two. A list that would remain unfinished business.

He was angry because being in so much pain sucked. It sucked to wake up in the morning and remember once again that the empty side of the bed wasn't only temporarily empty, that his husband wasn't in the bathroom or making breakfast so they could eat it together in bed. Mark was gone, and it didn't matter how many times Kurt repeated that sentence to himself, it still felt like something surreal and improbable.

But it was the cold hard truth.

Kurt was standing in this world with a shattered future, all alone, unsure which way to go, because the paths that he had planned to walk down were meant for two.

* * *

><p>Christmas was a quiet affair that year. Blaine joined Burt, Carole and Kurt at his best friend's apartment for lunch, and they exchanged presents by the tree. Kurt went silent afterwards, glancing out the window at the snow falling steadily, and the others allowed him a moment, knowing how hard this was for him.<p>

Burt and Carole left the day after Christmas, making sure to hug Kurt extra hard. They promised they would visit soon again – they knew, without Kurt needing to tell them, that he really needed them around. Just with one quick look shared with Burt, Blaine told him he wouldn't leave him on his own. Burt just nodded – he had always been able to trust Blaine.

Neither was very excited about Rachel's Christmas party, but Blaine thought it might be good for Kurt to go out, have a drink, and relax. Kurt only agreed to go after he realized he had spent most of the past few nights sitting on the couch devouring Christmas treats in his sweatpants.

When Kurt arrived at Rachel's incredibly spacious loft in Midtown Manhattan, he immediately spotted Blaine standing near the balcony door, sipping on a drink and talking to a few of Rachel's cast mates. Blaine had his back to the front door, so he hadn't seen Kurt yet.

Blaine turned to him with a smile when Kurt placed a hand on his back to announce his presence. Kurt's breath caught in his throat at how breathtakingly beautiful Blaine looked. He was always attractive, but there was something about him tonight that made Kurt's mouth go dry.

He was wearing simple, classic clothes – black fitted pants with beautiful shiny shoes, and a white button down. He had forgone the bowtie for once, and the first two buttons of the shirt were undone. There was a bit of chest hair peeking from the opening, and Kurt's pulse raced at the sight of it.

"Hey!" Blaine greeted brightly, but then frowned when he looked Kurt a little closely. "You okay? You seem a little flushed…"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Kurt said immediately, shaking his head hoping it would help clear it. "It's a little stuffy in here, that's all."

"Let's find you a drink, then," Blaine proposed, linking their arms together and taking him towards the kitchen, where Rachel had set up an improvised bar.

Rachel appeared by his side right when Blaine was handing him a glass of champagne, and Kurt had to keep it away from him to avoid getting his shirt stained thanks to the force of her embrace.

"Kurt! I'm so happy you came. I was starting to think you wouldn't be here…" She pouted, before placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "You look great. Will you dance with me later?"

"Of course, Rach," he said, rolling his eyes. She was quite tipsy already. "Just let me get a drink first, okay?"

"Sure! I have to go. So many people to greet! Just make yourself at home, and let me know if you are in the mood for a little karaoke later!" She blew him a kiss and disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.

Kurt chuckled and finally took a sip from his drink. "She's going to have such a hangover tomorrow…"

"She's a big girl. As long as she doesn't hurt herself…" Blaine murmured, grabbing some champagne for himself as well.

"Don't let _me_ drink too much, please. I have some work to finish tomorrow, and I don't need a splitting headache to deal with on top of everything," Kurt said, leaning against the counter and watching as the crowd danced, chatted, and laughed, having a good time. He felt a little estranged from it all, but he guessed it was normal, all things considering. He was still determined to enjoy himself, even if it wasn't the happiest time of his life.

"Yes, sir," Blaine winked at him, and Kurt tried to convince himself his heart didn't stop for a moment because of it. "But you have to save a dance or two for me, too. Rachel already tried to set me up with three of her friends, and one of them had a huge nipple ring…"

Kurt frowned. "How do you know that?"

"He showed me," Blaine deadpanned. "He cornered me in the bathroom and opened his shirt. He told me to let him know if I 'wanted to get a piece of that'. I think I'm going to be scarred for the rest of my life…"

Kurt snorted into his drink, doing his best not to laugh at Blaine, who looked completely horrified. "Well, I'm here now. I can send away whatever freak Rachel wants you to date. I've been told my glare is bulletproof."

"Bulletproof? I'd say it's lethal, darling," Blaine said, grinning at him.

Kurt poured himself more champagne.

* * *

><p>When Rachel finally dragged Kurt to dance with her, Blaine stood by the window, half watching the lights of New York, half watching his friends move around each other, laughing. It was the most relaxed he had seen Kurt in months, and he knew it was partly due to the two glasses of champagne he had downed. Regardless, it was nice to see the goofy smile stretching his lips.<p>

He looked amazing, too – not that it was a surprise. Kurt always looked impeccable, gorgeous in his perfectly-tailored clothes and bold color combinations. The tie he was wearing tonight had swirls of blue and green that made his eyes pop, sparkling even from all the way across the room. Blaine was always mesmerized by him.

One of Rachel's friends approached her as he watched, tapping her on the shoulder and then quietly speaking into her ear. Whatever the girl said made Rachel nod solemnly and apologize to Kurt, leaving him on his own on the dance floor. Kurt looked around awkwardly for a moment, and Blaine assumed he would come find him, when a man immediately stepped into Rachel's vacated place, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist confidently.

Kurt arched an eyebrow, clearly not amused by this stranger's attitude. He shook his head and put his hands on his chest, trying to push him away, but the man didn't seem to take a hint, and simply continued dancing with him. When the man began to grind against him in a way that was more usual in dark gay bars, and Kurt glared at him as if he was ready to set him on fire, Blaine decided to intervene.

He walked up to them and slipped between them, wrapping his arms around Kurt and pulling him close, completely ignoring the other guy. "Hey honey! I was looking for you. The babysitter says the kids are okay. You can stop worrying now…"

"Oh good. I was worried Ally was still puking everywhere." Kurt replied glibly, playing along. "I don't know what that child ate, but I have no idea how I will ever get the stains out of the couch cushions."

The man walked away, face scrunched in disgust, and they barely managed to hold their laughter until they were sure he was gone and couldn't hear them.

"Thanks for that," Kurt murmured, wrapping his own arms around Blaine's neck and falling into motion with him easily. "I was about to kick him in the groin…"

Blaine hummed in amusement. "Well, I would rather spend the rest of the night dancing with you than stopping you from committing murder, so…"

"Guess you're stuck with me, then," Kurt chuckled.

Blaine was perfectly okay with that.

* * *

><p>The longer they danced, the harder it was for Kurt to stop himself from touching Blaine.<p>

His chest was firm and solid against his, and those damn chest hairs still peeking from his shirt seemed to be mocking him. His jaw was covered with the beginnings of a dark stubble, and Kurt wanted to feel the roughness of it against his fingertips. He smelled amazing, too – so masculine, like clean sweat and sweet cologne.

It was driving him crazy. It wasn't only how horrible it made him feel that he could feel attracted to someone when the wounds of Mark's death were still so open, still bleeding, but Blaine was also his best friend, and he never wanted to do something that would damage that friendship. It meant too much to him. It was his everything right now.

_Blaine_ was his everything.

They had a nice time, despite having to dodge Rachel trying to introduce Blaine to painfully lame guys, and her plying Kurt with drinks that were four parts alcohol to one part mix. But Kurt knew better than to trust Rachel when it came to drinks.

When they finally left, Kurt was too tired to ride the subway home, so he agreed to spend the night at Blaine's apartment. They bundled up in their coats and decided to walk the short distance there. Kurt wouldn't have usually think anything when Blaine wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer to keep warm, but after spending the entire night struggling not to be inappropriate with his best friend, even the smallest touch became too much.

Just thinking about getting up relatively early the next day and get to work was enough to make Kurt even more tired. He leaned heavily against the wall outside Blaine's apartment while his friend searched for the keys, and closed his eyes, willing all the intense, weird, alien feelings, thoughts, and sensations of the night to melt away and leave him alone.

However, when he opened his eyes, he discovered most of the hallway was decorated with branches of mistletoe, and both he and Blaine were standing under one of them.

"What?" Blaine asked, confused, when Kurt gasped. He followed Kurt's eyes up to the ceiling. "Oh," he simply stared at the mistletoe for a moment. "Yeah, that's my next door neighbor. She put them up the other day. I'm pretty sure she's trying to find a perfect excuse to kiss the guy in 3B…"

Kurt's heart was thumping in his chest and he couldn't make it stop. His eyes were still fixed on the little green branches.

"Just ignore it," Blaine said, shrugging. He finally got the door open. "Let's go, we have to…"

But Kurt never found out what they had to do. He wasn't sure what made him do it, but everything he had felt in the past few months – all the pain, the loneliness, the anger, the despair – seemed to explode inside of him and push him forward, making him collapse against Blaine's chest. He framed his face with his hands, and only registered for a second how Blaine's eyes widened in absolute shock, before he leaned in and kissed him.

He panicked for a second, with their lips pressed together, but he was too scared to end the kiss, not knowing what would happen when he did. And then, after a sharp intake of breath, Blaine's arms were around his waist and his mouth was moving under his, kissing back fiercely.

It was so different from that kiss they had shared after Blaine's senior year of high school. There was nothing innocent about this one, nothing shy and tentative. It was a passionate, strong kiss, with dancing tongues and muffled moans. It wasn't a kiss between two kids – it was a kiss between two adults who knew very well where it might take them.

There wasn't time to talk. There wasn't time to stop. They paused very quickly to breathe, but their lips attached once again almost immediately. Suffocating didn't seem all that important, when the feelings the kiss was eliciting were so much stronger, so much more intense.

Kurt whined, almost as if he was in pain. He was so aroused already that he thought he might die from it. Kissing Blaine was a full-sensory experience – his fingers were digging into his back; his lips were pressing insistently against his; the breathy sounds he was allowing to escape him were nothing short of tantalizing; the smell of his cologne and sweat, that Kurt had already noticed at the party, seemed to fill him completely, and the taste of his kisses made him hungry for more.

"Kurt," Blaine muttered in a choked voice. "Oh god… we should…"

"Don't," Kurt sobbed, pressing himself closer to Blaine's body. "Blaine, please…"

Blaine gasped when he felt the outline of Kurt's cock already pushing insistently against his thigh. Whatever logical reasoning left in the room evaporated right then. He kicked the front door closed and pushed Kurt against it, covering his body with his own and revealing in how hard and perfect it felt.

He began kissing along Kurt's jaw, his lips and tongue searching for all of his sensitive spots, finding the first one right behind his ear, and causing Kurt to moan loudly and thrash against him, looking for more.

"What do you need?" Blaine asked, and his voice sounded unexpectedly sweet.

"Anything. You. Anything," Kurt babbled, as his hands worked quickly to get Blaine's coat off.

He had always seen Blaine's body as compact and tiny, giving the vibe of being perfect to envelope in one's arms, almost fragile with how small he was. But now there was nothing small about him. His shoulders were broad under Kurt's hands, his arms strong and muscled, as Kurt slid the coat down and off of him. As soon as he had access to his shirt, Kurt's fingers flew to the tantalizing buttons that had been catching his attention all night, undoing them as fast as he could without ripping them, to finally tangle his fingers in the chest hair he found underneath.

Blaine wasn't excessively hairy, but just enough to make a difference, to make Kurt's mouth water. He groaned as Kurt raked his fingers down his chest, needing to feel all of him. "Fuck, Kurt…"

That word, that dirty word coming from Blaine's lips had the power to turn Kurt's knees to jelly. Blaine, who has always such a gentleman, who was polite and proper at all times, who always stopped to help old ladies cross the street… knowing he could turn him on enough to make him forget about all that, to make him leave his clean and courteous persona out the door, only caused Kurt to get more and more desperate.

His cock was so hard in his pants that it was turning painful, so Kurt reached down and undid the button, hoping to decrease some of the pressure. He didn't expect Blaine's hazel eyes to go dark at the sight, two orbs of molten gold that seemed to burn his skin and his soul, especially when he looked back up, fixing his gaze in Kurt's own blown blue eyes.

"Let me," Blaine murmured in the roughest voice Kurt had ever heard from him.

Kurt nodded breathlessly, as Blaine reached into his pants and traced a finger over the bulge straining the tight boxer briefs. When his nail caught slightly on the ridge, Kurt moaned brokenly, bucking up, asking for more without any words. Blaine looked at him for a moment, searching for confirmation silently, and Kurt bit his lip and nodded once more, unable to talk.

Blaine pushed his pants down until they were pooling around his feet. Kurt clumsily kicked his shoes off to take them off, already distracted with how deliciously Blaine was touching him – he was being so careful, so slow, still tracing the outline of his erection through the fabric, making the moment last longer, as if Kurt wasn't going crazy already.

Just when Kurt thought Blaine would torture him for the rest of the night, he hooked his thumbs on the elastic of Kurt's underwear and dragged it down, freeing his cock. The little gasp he let out at the sight of Kurt's erection, red and curved towards his stomach, with a little pearl of pre-come peeking from the slit, elicit desire to wash over Kurt intensely. He grabbed Blaine's shoulders, pulling him slightly, trying to ask for something he couldn't put into words.

Blaine understood perfectly, just like he had always understood him. His fingers were suddenly wrapped around Kurt's cock, stroking experimentally and ripping desperate little moans from him, who couldn't stop from thrusting into his loose fist, needing more. Blaine ran the pad of his thumb over the head, gathering the moist there and spreading it over his shaft.

"God, you're perfect," Blaine whispered, mesmerized. He licked his lips, looking down at his hand, watching Kurt's cock as it slid through it. "I've always known you'd be perfect, but… fuck, Kurt, this is so…"

"Please," Kurt begged, feeling so close to the edge already. "More, Blaine. I need more…"

Hearing Kurt beg him like that seemed to ignite a fire inside of Blaine, the kind of flame he couldn't tame, control or put out. He placed his hands on the back of Kurt's thighs and lifted him up, pressing against the door and making him wrap his legs around his waist. Kurt almost squeaked in surprise, but he was too far gone to even care about what was going on. Watching Blaine's muscles flex as he held him up made him throw his head back against the door and moan with reckless abandon.

Blaine brought one hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. "Hold on tight," he whispered against his lips, and Kurt melted for the millionth time in less than twenty minutes.

"You too," Kurt mumbled, his voice so rough with arousal that it was barely recognizable. He reached down with one hand, using the other to hold himself on Blaine's shoulder, and unbutton his pants, the sound of the zipper too loud in the otherwise quite apartment, only accompanied by their ragged breaths. "Shit, Blaine…"

Blaine's cock was a little shorter but just as thick as Kurt's, and Kurt's mouth watered once more, wishing he could just drop to his knees and put him in between his lips, swirl his tongue around the head and taste Blaine where he had never tasted him before. But his fantasies flew out the window when Blaine aligned their cocks instead, before he began to thrust relentlessly against him.

Kurt gasped, feeling hot all over, knowing he wouldn't last long. He was ready to be pushed over the edge any moment now. "Yes, _yes_…"

"Like that?" Blaine asked, and he looked completely undone with his shirt partially opened and his pants pushed aside carelessly. Kurt had never seen him like this.

"More. Harder. I'm so close, Blaine…" Kurt's head thumped against the door, and he moved his hips tentatively, not wanting to send both of them to the floor if Blaine didn't have a good enough grip on him.

Blaine groaned, spurred by Kurt's arousal, and grabbed both of his cocks in his hand. His fingers weren't long enough to close around both of them, but it felt fantastic anyway, if the long moan that escaped Kurt's throat was any indication. He kissed down Kurt's neck, lapping at his pulse point and biting slightly when Kurt moaned again in appreciation.

Kurt felt himself spiraling down into sheer pleasure, and before he could warn Blaine, he was coming hard over his hand, his cock, their stomachs. The long ropes of come seemed to be never-ending, some falling to the floor, and one even reaching Blaine's chin. He couldn't remember the last time he had come so intensely, but despite how amazing it was, his cock remained hard and wanting even when he was finished shaking through his orgasm.

Blaine licked his lips at the sight, and Kurt reached lazily to clean the come on his chin. Blaine caught his hand before he could move it away and sucked his finger into his mouth, cleaning it with his tongue.

"Okay?" Blaine asked, and Kurt wasn't sure exactly what he meant, but he nodded.

Kurt bucked up again, looking for more. "Don't' stop."

"Shit, Kurt…" Blaine dropped his head on Kurt's shoulder and grinded against him for a moment, leaving pre-come on Kurt's thighs and hip. "Bedroom?" He suggested, sounding a little unsure.

"Yes," Kurt replied in a heartbeat. He tugged at Blaine's clothes in frustration. "These need to go right now…"

"We'll get there, sweetheart," Blaine chuckled, and it was such a hoarse laughter, that the sound made a shiver ran down Kurt's spine, making his cock twitch.

Instead of putting Kurt back down on the floor, he held him even tighter, and Kurt wrapped his arms around his neck, holding on for dear life, as Blaine carried him across the living room and towards his bedroom.

It was a very small distance, but it was so much more than that, so much more than just a few steps towards a bed. It was a road they couldn't return from, but they were too lost in their passion to realize that.

* * *

><p>It was weird how natural it felt – so natural, in fact, that they never even thought of stopping. Blaine kissed down Kurt's body eagerly, and when Kurt begged him to fuck him, he almost came all over the sheets completely untouched.<p>

Having Kurt spread over his bed, arching up to take his fingers deeper was one of the most erotic things Blaine had ever seen. He had to distract himself with kisses here and there – kisses on the crease of his thigh, kisses on his collarbones, kisses around his nipples to drive Kurt a little bit more crazy – but at the same time, he didn't want to miss a single second of this, because the sounds Kurt was producing were too delicious too miss. Each sigh, each moan, each grunt seemed to travel straight to Blaine's cock, and by the time Kurt was properly stretched, he was so hard he thought he might be about to pass out.

Kurt grabbed his arm and tugged him down on top of him, kissing him desperately, his tongue quickly slipping into Blaine's mouth to caress his own. "Come on. Now, please…"

"Okay," Blaine nodded, and the softness in his voice was completely out of place in that moment. He grabbed his cock and lined it up with Kurt's entrance, as Kurt wrapped his legs around him to give him a better angle.

Being inside of Kurt was completely surreal. Blaine had had his fair share of sex, but he had never felt such a deep emotional connection with anyone else, not the kind he shared with Kurt. He had to stop once he bottomed out, ignoring Kurt's mewls for a moment, who was begging him to move. His heart was beating so hard, he thought he may be about to have a heart attack.

Kurt was demanding in bed – _more, harder, faster, oh god right there, don't stop_ – but the way he framed Blaine's face in his hands and kissed every inch of skin he was able to reach added a certain tenderness to the scene that would have been completely disconcerting if either of them had been capable of thinking clearly.

Blaine's hips moved mercilessly, driving him into Kurt deeper and deeper. Kurt showed his appreciation and approval moaning out loud, arching his back off the bed to get closer and screaming Blaine's name whenever he brushed against his prostate. Blaine was drunk on how sinful and beautiful Kurt was like this.

He couldn't wait to see Kurt come again. The way his jaw went slack and his eyes slid closed, made him look vulnerable and innocent, when Blaine knew perfectly how strong and level-headed Kurt truly was. Seeing him drop his barriers when he was having sex was a privilege he would treasure for the rest of his life.

Kurt's breathing turned erratic, and he rocked back onto Blaine's cock desperately, as if no matter how deep Blaine went, it would never be enough. "Blaine, god…"

"Are you close?" Blaine asked, lips brushing over the curve of Kurt's shoulder.

"_Yes_," Kurt whined, tilting his hips up.

Blaine moved his hand between their bodies until he could wrap his fingers around Kurt's erection. He jerked it, wishing he could keep an even rhythm, but he was tittering on the edge and ready to fall.

Kurt cried out when his orgasm finally hit him, and it seemed to last forever. Blaine watched him shake and arch underneath him, felt him clench around him, and listened to the amazing moans that echoed against the walls. He could feel his come coating his stomach and chest, the stickiness of it on his skin.

It was heaven, and definitely enough to get him right where he needed to get to, as well.

Blaine wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt as he came, crying out his release against the crook of his neck. The scent of Kurt's sweaty skin and his cologne was all around him, and he never wanted to move. He dropped a few lazy kisses there, trying to get his breathing back to normal.

Kurt's hands were clutching his back loosely, as if he lacked strength to hold on any tighter. Blaine could feel him slipping into unconsciousness already, so he forced himself to pull away and find something to clean their come-stained skin and the slickness of lube from between Kurt's legs.

Kurt hummed in contentment when Blaine ran a wet washcloth over his stomach, turning to nuzzle into the pillow. "Just get back to bed…"

Blaine chuckled. "Yes, dear."

He slotted himself against Kurt's back, tracing the knots of his spine with the tip of his nose, and allowing sleep to take over him.

There was a smile on both of their faces, and for that little moment in time, everything seemed to be right in the world.

* * *

><p>When Kurt woke up, his limbs were loose and he could feel the sweet warmth of a body pressed against his back. There was an arm wrapped possessively around his stomach and tender little kisses being pressed lazily on the back of his neck and shoulders. Behind his closed eyelids, he could perceive the light of the new day, and he sighed contentedly, unable to hold back a smile.<p>

One of the kisses turned into a playful bite that made him giggle.

"Mm, stop it, Mark!" He mumbled sleepily.

The arm around him tensed, and the beautiful warmth pressed against him disappeared in just a matter of seconds. Kurt blinked his eyes open in confusion.

And then the events of the past night hit him like a ton of bricks.

He wasn't in his own apartment. He was in Blaine's bed. He was _naked_ in Blaine's bed.

"Oh no," he muttered breathlessly. He pulled the sheet against his chest as he sat up abruptly, feeling the tale-tell soreness in his ass as he did so. "Oh no, shit, shit, fuck!"

Blaine was standing by the bed, staring at him with wide, sad eyes. He was naked – shamelessly so – and he shouldn't have been allowed to look as vulnerable as he did then. It was almost pathetic.

"Hey," he whispered softly, reaching a hand towards Kurt. "Sweetheart. It's okay. You don't have to…"

"_We had sex_," Kurt said, as if stating the obvious would change anything.

"Yes, we did," Blaine replied helplessly, and his hazel eyes were pleading, fixed on Kurt and waiting for him to understand. But what had happened between them couldn't be understood – it was such a mess.

"Oh god," Kurt whined, covering his face with his hands. "Oh god, why did I do this? Why did I have to ruin everything? And with my best friend. My husband hasn't even been dead for four months and I've already hooked up with someone else. With my best friend. Oh my god, I'm gonna be sick…"

"No, no, hey…" Blaine muttered in a sweet voice, crawling over the bed to get to him. He kneeled in front of Kurt and gently removed his hands from his face. "Kurt. Kurt, come on, just look at me."

"What the hell did I do?" Kurt sobbed desperately. "You're my best friend…"

"Sweetheart, please." Blaine's heart broke when he saw how devastated Kurt was. He rested his forehead against Kurt's. "I love you."

"I know. I love you too," Kurt said miserably.

Blaine pulled away, frowning. "No. No, you don't understand. Listen to me, Kurt," he pleaded. His eyes burned right into Kurt's, begging him to really listen to what he was about to say. "_I love you_."

Kurt looked completely puzzled for a moment, but once realization dawned, he went pale and pulled away from him. "Blaine…" he said warily.

"Please, don't… I know these past few months have been terrible for you," Blaine held his hands up, like a prey trying to calm a wild beast. "But what we did… Kurt, you can't regret that. You can't regret anything that we share…"

"Blaine, for the love of god, have you lost your mind?" Kurt exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "You can't say these things! What do you even want from me?"

Blaine pulled away. He tugged on one of the blankets on the bed and wrapped it around himself. He looked away, unable to glance at Kurt directly, but Kurt could still see the pain building in his eyes. "Why the hell did you sleep with me? You kissed me, Kurt. You weren't drunk. You were completely conscious. So why are you making me feel like I took advantage of you?"

"You can't possibly think I wanted this, Blaine!" Kurt roared, and Blaine took a step back, a horrified look taking over his face.

"You… Kurt, you can't tell me… you can't accuse me…" He swallowed, visibly fighting the tears.

"What makes you think I wanted this, Blaine?" Kurt screamed, the anger taking over him once again. He could feel it invading every cell in his body, pouring out of every pore, and felt helpless with it. He couldn't control it. "My husband's dead! Mark's dead! He's the only one for me, and I can't have him! I've been alone for almost four months now, and I miss him like fucking crazy! I want _him_!"

Blaine wiped the tears trailing down his cheeks furiously. "So what, you thought you would get me to fuck you, and maybe that would help you feel less lonely? Or didn't you just think at all, Kurt? Did you stop and think for just one second?"

Kurt shook his head vehemently. "I have to go."

He got out of bed, wrapping the sheet around himself and walking out of the bedroom in search of his clothes, still scattered near the front door.

"You can't just leave!" Blaine exclaimed, going after him.

"What the hell do you want me to say, Blaine?" Kurt turned back to face him, and the fire in his eyes could have burnt the building down.

Blaine gaped at him, completely perplexed. "I just told you I love you. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Kurt got dressed hastily. "Blaine, just… don't make this any harder than it already is."

He was having trouble breathing. He couldn't stay here. He needed to go home, take some distance, clear his head. He couldn't do that when Blaine was standing there, looking at him like he didn't recognize him, like Kurt had just stepped all over his hopes and dreams.

He couldn't stand seeing Blaine so disappointed in him, when he was already disappointed in himself enough.

"Please don't go," Blaine begged brokenly. "We need to talk about this. We can't just… you're my best friend, Kurt."

But Kurt just shook his head once more. Words wouldn't be enough. Words wouldn't justify anything. Not right now, at least. Whatever he said would only make things worse.

So Kurt threw his coat on carelessly and walked out of Blaine's apartment, with his hair disheveled and hickeys littered down the column of his neck. He ran down the stairs and out to the street as if he was being chased by some kind of monster, but deep down inside, Kurt felt like the only monster was him.

And he knew that there was no way to escape that.

* * *

><p><strong>*Hides under the bed* Don't kill me!<strong>

**We're almost done with this story. Please review and let me know what you thought of this chapter!**

**Have a great week, and I'll see you soon!**

**Love,**

**L.-**


	7. Depression

**Happy Saturday, lovelies! I hope you had a wonderful week.**

**Thank you so much for your sweet reviews. I truly can't even try to explain how much I appreciate you, each and every one of you. And thank you for sharing your own personal stories related to grief and losing a dear one. I'm happy that I haven't made any big mistakes that would have offended any of you. I wrote this with the utmost respect. Big hugs to all of you who know what it's like to go through something like Kurt is going through in this fic.**

**Thank you, as usual, to my betas, Wutif and Christine. They rock and I love them to the stars and back :)**

**Here's another loooong chapter, so if you're tired or hungry or need to pee, I'd say you should take care of that first :P**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

><p>It wasn't the first time that Blaine Anderson's heart got broken, but it felt like the worst of them. It felt like it could be last, too, because he didn't think he would be able to put it back together after this.<p>

Everything Kurt had said – it sent chills down his spine, and his blood turned to ice in his veins.

He had never thought Kurt would do this to him.

Blaine could understand that Kurt was going through a lot, that sleeping with someone other than Mark could be a bit life-changing, but this? Accusing Blaine of basically going against his will? Walking out on him completely disregarding his feelings, not caring about Blaine being left behind with a broken heart?

That was not the Kurt Hummel he had fallen in love with.

* * *

><p>He went back to bed once Kurt was gone, slipping under the covers and hiding there, as if that would solve everything. He didn't bother putting clothes on. The apartment seemed colder than usual, but the cold distracted him from the pain. Anything was better than the pain.<p>

The bed smelled like Kurt. The pillows were bathed in his intoxicating scent – a mix of gardenias and aftershave; a mix of sweat and sex that raised goose bumps on Blaine's skin.

He closed his eyes, because even enveloped in darkness as he was now, he wanted to make sure he didn't see anything. Blaine was somehow sure that he would be able to see his life escaping from his hold if he kept his eyes open. It would slip away from him in the same way Kurt had.

Best friends. Deep down inside, Blaine doubted that title would remain intact. Something had altered and broken between them, and the way Kurt had left before they could work it out made him think the end was closer than a solution.

He kept his eyes closed and hoped for sleep. Maybe in his dreams, Kurt would still be next to him, and he wouldn't feel as pathetic and wrong as he did when he was awake.

* * *

><p>By the time Kurt got home, the anger had melted away, but the guilt and the confusion had swept right in to take over, choking him with every step he took from the subway station to his apartment.<p>

It was all too much. Thinking about Mark, believing for just one blissful second that he was right next to him in bed, holding him in his arms; finding Blaine instead, who had confessed his love for him, as if Kurt should have expected, should have _known_ somehow.

He hadn't meant what he said – those awful, disgusting words that left his lips before he even knew what he was doing. But panic had risen in his throat, unsure how to deal with this. There wasn't a protocol to follow. How were you supposed to handle the fact that, four months after the love of your life died, you slept with your best friend? The one person Kurt had always trusted, no questions asked.

The only other man Kurt had loved unconditionally.

Kurt walked into the bathroom and immediately started the shower. He removed his clothes quickly, as he watched the steam rising behind the glass screen. The water was scalding when he finally stepped under it, and he whimpered in pain, but didn't do anything to fix it. He closed his eyes and forced himself to stay there, as if he was trying to wash away whatever sin he had just committed.

As if mere water could erase the memories of Blaine from his skin.

So much had been broken that day. So many decisions had been made for the wrong reasons. So many ghosts haunt him. So many mistakes needed to be fixed…

But for now, Kurt sat on the shower floor and cried. He cried for his husband, for his best friend and for himself. He cried because he had already lost too much, and wasn't sure if he would be able to survive losing even more.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until later that afternoon that Blaine resurfaced from his cocoon of blankets. He dragged himself into the bathroom and showered, before slipping into some sweatpants and a hoodie. He knew he was supposed to eat something, but his stomach couldn't even stand the thought of food. It would have to wait.<p>

Despite how hurt he was, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about how Kurt was doing. Even if Blaine was in pain because of a unrequited love (it was so much more, though, _so much more_), Kurt's emotional state had been fragile for days. Maybe he was an idiot, but he was also worried.

And years of being Kurt's best friend couldn't be wiped away so easily.

Blaine didn't dare go see him. But he could make sure he was okay anyway.

He grabbed his phone and dialed Rachel's number. She picked up after a few rings, greeting him with a very sleepy voice.

"Hey."

When Rachel got drunk, she was absolutely useless the following day. She had probably been sleeping most of the time, and wouldn't be any good until the next morning. But if she was a better friend that he had ended being, she would get over herself and do what he needed her to do now.

"Hi, Rach."

"Oh man, you sound worse than I do," she exclaimed, surprised. "I didn't think you had drunk that much…"

"I didn't," Blaine replied. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to reveal to her, but he knew he would have to give her _something_. "Listen, I… I need to ask you a favor."

"Yes, I can give you Jason's number. He was really cute, wasn't he? I think his piercings make him look super exotic…" Rachel said, as usually too lost in her own world to be anything other than clueless.

"No, Rach. I need you to stop by Kurt's apartment as soon as you possibly can and check on him," he explained. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache growing there.

Rachel was definitely confused. "What? Why?"

"He was very upset when he left my apartment this morning," Blaine answered, and he knew he wouldn't be able to keep her away from suspecting anything for too long. "I just want someone to make sure he's okay."

"And why don't you go yourself? Are you sick?" She asked, and she sounded even more concerned. Knowing her, she was probably worried Blaine had left some kind of nasty virus at her place, and that she would get sick soon. Rachel hated being sick more than anyone else he had ever come across – it meant she had to stay away from the stage.

"No. I'm not sick," Blaine reassured her. He did feel sick, but he knew it wasn't something she could catch. "Just… please? Can you do it?"

When Rachel Berry remained silent for more than five seconds, it meant something wasn't right. "What the hell happened, Blaine?"

Blaine wanted to lie. He wanted to pretend nothing was wrong. He wanted to give her as many excuses as possible so she would leave him alone. But his pain had been festering all day, and it bubbled up his throat before he could stop himself. "I fucked up, Rachel," he sobbed.

"_Blaine_," she whispered, equal parts worried and scared. "Hey. Come on, it'll be okay. Just tell me what happened…"

Blaine did. He told her everything. He told her everything he hadn't told Kurt. He talked about how long he had been in love with him, how he hadn't been able to find a guy who could fill the empty space in his heart that belonged to Kurt and only Kurt. He told her about how he had convinced himself that he would be perfectly happy with having Kurt in his life in whatever capacity he could have him, even if it meant Blaine never got to experience what true love could be.

He told her about what had happened after her party, and about Kurt's reaction that morning before he stormed off.

"I think he's done with me, and I can't blame him," Blaine finally said, voice cracking due to how long he had been crying. "But I just want someone to make sure he's okay…"

"But who's going to make sure you are okay, Blaine?" She asked sadly. "What are you going to do?"

Blaine didn't have an answer. He didn't know. He had never imagined he would have to picture life without Kurt at some point. He had never imagined he could fuck up so much.

His tired hazel eyes fell on the guitar and keyboard resting against the wall of the living room. Blaine usually wasn't a hasty guy. He was cautious and smart about everything he did.

Except for what he had done last night and that morning.

But this time, he didn't think. He didn't weight pros and cons. He didn't make lists or try to be practical. He made up his mind, and the decision was final.

It had taken less than a second for his friendship with Kurt to be completely ruined. It took about the same amount of time for him to decide how he was going to answer Rachel's question.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here?"<p>

Rachel's smile didn't falter when Kurt opened the door and found her there. He looked terrible – his hair was disheveled and he was wearing sweatpants. Sweatpants were a bad sign in Kurt Hummel. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he had been crying for a while.

She held up a brown paper bag. "I brought you chicken soup!" She exclaimed enthusiastically.

Kurt watched her unamused, not showing any intention to invite her in. "I'm not sick."

"Well, you don't look too good. I think it would be good for you," she insisted, determined. Her smile was still in place and it was very unnerving. "Plus, you shouldn't let it go to waste. I got you actual chicken soup instead of the vegan alternative. You know how difficult it is for me to do something like that. You should appreciate the sacrifices I do for you…"

He ran a hand through his hair desperately. "Rachel… please, _please_, for the love of god, just _leave_."

She finally looked down, her happy façade falling. She cleared her throat and looked down at Kurt apologetically. "I can't do that, I'm sorry."

"Why not?" He asked, exasperated. He just wanted to go back to bed.

"Because Blaine made me promise I would come keep you company," she replied sheepishly.

Hearing his name made Kurt look away, as if to hide the flash of pain in his eyes from her. "I don't need a babysitter. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

"Are you a hundred percent sure of that? Because you don't look like you're handling this very well, and it's only been… what? A day?" She said, some sass creeping into her voice.

Kurt was not in the right mind to deal with her. "Rachel, I am not in the mood to entertain you. Leave me alone. I don't care what Blaine asked you to do."

She sighed in defeat. "Look, I'm… Blaine told me what happened, okay? I'm worried. I just want to make sure you're alright…"

Kurt gaped at her. "Blaine told you? I… how could he…" He stopped and moved away from the door. God, why did Blaine think he had the right to tell people about this? "That was private. It was between him and me."

Rachel followed him inside, closing the door behind her and immediately walking towards the kitchen to drop the soup. She leaned against the counter once she was there and looked at Kurt from across the room. "Well… he clearly didn't want to talk about it. But I think he needed to. He broke down completely, Kurt. He probably has been bottling up a lot of stuff in the past few years…"

"Well, then maybe you should be keeping him company instead," Kurt said viciously, and there was that horrible anger once again.

"I can't do that," Rachel shook her head quietly.

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Rachel?" He asked brusquely.

"Because he's gone."

Kurt froze completely at her words. It was the last thing he had expected her to say. "I… what? What do you mean he's _gone_?" He mumbled, gripping the edge of the couch to steady himself.

Rachel raised her hands as if trying to placate him. "Look, I don't know the whole story. He just said something about the band and taking them up on the offer…"

Kurt's grip on the couch tightened even more. His anger was gone, suddenly replaced with the kind of emptiness that left him breathless. "He went on tour? I thought he didn't want to… but what about the kids he's tutoring and his apartment and…?"

"Kurt, I swear I don't know the details," she said quietly, smiling sadly at him. "He sounded very upset, and he seemed to think he needed to take a break, go away for a while. You have to trust that he knows what he's doing…"

"But he doesn't know what he's doing, Rachel! Neither of us does!" He exclaimed desperately. "I said a lot of things he didn't deserve. I hurt him. But I just… I couldn't deal with what we did…"

When he covered his face with his hands, Rachel crossed the apartment towards him, grabbed him by the arms, and guided him towards the couch, so he could sit. She then sat next to him and wrapper her arms around him.

"Kurt… I know he's your best friend, and I know the fact that he has feelings for you complicates things a little bit, but… this is not the end of the world. Best friends – especially friends as attractive as you two are – fall into this kind of thing very often. Just because you had sex once, doesn't mean it has to turn into a habit. It doesn't mean you have to jump into a relationship. It doesn't mean anything you don't want it to." She rubbed his back soothingly. "You two are so close, and have shared so much over the years… you even kissed once, remember? At that stupid party?"

"Of course I remember…" Kurt sniffed. "But this is different, Rachel. He told me he loved me. And I… I feel like…"

She squeezed his hand encouragingly. "What do you feel, sweetie?"

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at her miserably. "I feel like I cheated on Mark."

"Oh Kurt," Rachel's face crumbled a little, but she managed to pull herself back together. "Oh sweetie, no. You didn't do anything wrong…"

He pulled away from her and wrapped his own arms around himself. He felt sick again. "Yes, I did. He hasn't been gone for that long and I… I couldn't even make it for six months before I jumped into some other guy's bed…"

"Except Blaine isn't _some other guy_," Rachel pointed out patiently. "He's never been. He never will be. And I'm sure Mark would have wanted you to be happy… you can't put your life on hold forever, Kurt…"

"But it's too soon," he retorted bitterly. "I feel like I failed him."

"There isn't a guideline. There isn't a set of rules you are supposed to follow after your husband dies," Rachel said, looking into his eyes intently. "You are the only one who knows what's best for you. Maybe you needed to do this. Maybe it was a mistake you needed to make as part of your grief. Or maybe it was what you needed to do to figure out you've healed. I can't tell you that, Kurt. No one can." She paused, wanting to make sure what she was going to say next would really get to him. "But whatever it ends up being, Mark would never judge you for it. You haven't failed him and you're not cheating on him. I know you're still hurting, and I know this is the kind of thing you can't just move on from in the blink of an eye… but he isn't coming back, sweetie. He's dead. I'm so sorry. You just can't keep living your life as if he was still here…"

Kurt broke down completely – he was torn between what he thought was right and what he wanted… and he was almost absolutely sure that what he wanted was exactly what he shouldn't have been wishing for in the first place.

Mark was gone without a choice. He had been having the best day of his life, and then everything vanished in the blink of an eye. Kurt had had to say goodbye to a life-worth of plans and goals, and learn how to breathe again when he felt like the world was crumbling down to pieces around him.

Blaine had chosen to leave. Kurt had hurt him so badly, after Blaine had done nothing but taken care of him day and night, that he had caused him to go away. He had packed up his life and run, and Kurt was starting to believe maybe it had been a wise idea. Maybe the people he loved really should have stay away from him. Maybe they were better off…

Rachel was right. There wasn't a guideline, but he wished there was one.

* * *

><p>Blaine sat on the back of the van, watching the outline of New York getting smaller in the distance as they drove away.<p>

Even though he had made his decision quickly, without second doubting himself, he couldn't help feeling a little tug in his heart. This city had been his home for years, and he was leaving everything he loved behind.

Georgina and Jimmy were singing along with the radio, sitting together at the front, but Blaine had chosen the loneliness of the back. He was bundled up in a coat and a thick sweater, since the heating had a tendency to malfunction whenever they needed it the most. His curls were a bit out of control, so he had shoved a beanie on his head to hide them from view. He probably looked homeless, but he didn't really care.

His guitar was on his lap, and he strummed the strings lazily a couple of times, but the melodies escaped him. He was too tired and too heartbroken to care at this very moment, though.

Blaine didn't know exactly how many months they would be on the road, but a part of him was looking forward to it. Georgina had been in charge of plotting everything, but she had been very vague when she had explained the details to them, and Blaine had been too hurt to even care. He just knew he wanted to get away, and music was always the perfect refuge. If he could hide in his music for a while, maybe one day he would be able to come back to New York, leaving his broken heart behind.

Or maybe he would find a new home, somewhere without painful memories.

Part of him felt horribly guilty. Leaving Kurt was against every single one of his instincts. But he needed to go against them – if he stayed around, if he pressed Kurt to talk about what had happened, he would only end up causing more pain to the both of them. They needed time. They needed to be smart. If there was any possibility of saving their beautiful friendship, they couldn't rush each other to do things they weren't ready for.

Blaine had always thought time was wise. He just wished he could have had at least some of that wisdom himself.

He fished his phone out of his pocket. Kurt hadn't called. Since Rachel had promised to go see him as soon as possible, Blaine was sure Kurt knew about him leaving already. The fact that he hadn't even tried to stop him was the very last push Blaine needed to actually go through with this.

He took a deep breath and glanced out the window again. The bright lights of New York were barely visible in the horizon now.

"Goodbye, Kurt," he murmured to the darkness of the van.

* * *

><p>Isolated applause echoed through the bar as Blaine and his friends stepped off the stage, sweaty and downing the rest of their beers. It was a less enthusiastic response than they were used to at the bar they used to play back in New York, but it was also nice to be playing for a new crowd. Or so was Georgina babbling about, obviously trying to keep everybody's spirits alive.<p>

They were in New Jersey, their very first stop. Blaine was still too close to New York to feel the weight lifted from his shoulders, too close to get rid of the idea of simply hitching a ride back to Kurt. He could buy a train ticket or even get on a cab and be back in New York in a heartbeat… but then why would he leave in the first place if he wasn't going to go through with it?

Jimmy clapped him in the back, grinning at him and snapping him out of his trance. "Great job, Blaine."

"Thanks, man," he mumbled distractedly, turning to the new drummer to shake his hand. Rick was a friend of Jimmy's cousin and had arrived from Connecticut that same morning. They were lucky he was quite talented, because they hadn't had time to rehearse much at all.

Georgina put her bass down against the wall and reached for everyone's empty bottles. "Anyone want another beer?"

"Water for me," Blaine said, shaking his head. "It's my turn to drive later."

They went back to the table they had occupied before they had headed to the stage earlier, and Blaine was about to take a seat and listen to the next band, when his phone went off in his pocket. He wiped his sweaty hands in his jeans and fished it out of his pocket.

Burt Hummel was calling him.

Blaine swallowed nervously. He had no idea if Burt had heard about what had happened or if this was just one of his routine phone calls to catch up. Either way, he knew he couldn't ignore the man.

"Hey, I'll be right back," he told the other two already sitting at the table, and quickly slipped out of the bar, ignoring how cold it was. He accepted the call as he found a bench to sit on at the front of the flower shop next door. "Hi, Burt."

"Hey buddy," Burt said as warmly as ever. So maybe he didn't know anything… "Am I calling at a bad time?"

"No, no, it's fine. We've just finished playing," Blaine replied. He leaned his head against the glass of the window display, bracing himself for whatever was about to come out of Burt's mouth. "How are you?"

"Fine, fine… Carole and I just finished having dinner and I thought I would check on my boys," Burt answered. Blaine felt warmth spreading down his spine, just like every time Burt made him feel part of his family like that. "But when I called Kurt, he only picked up briefly and told me he wasn't in the mood to talk, and that he needed some time… so I'm a bit worried here. Is he okay?"

There was a huge lump in Blaine's throat, and it didn't matter how many times he tried to swallow it down, it wouldn't budge. "I…" He gasped for breath. There were two things he hated more than anything: hurting Kurt, and disappointing Burt. And he had managed to do both in a ridiculously short amount of time.

"Blaine?" Burt murmured, voice laced with concern, when Blaine couldn't speak for a little while. "You're scaring me, buddy. What's wrong with Kurt?"

The lump transformed into a sob that rose all the way to his lips before he could even think to stop it. "I'm so sorry, Burt," he managed to say. "I screwed up. I screwed up so badly…"

"Oh, no, Blaine…" Burt said softly, almost soothingly. "Come on, buddy, calm down, and tell me what happened."

Blaine covered his face with his hand and tried to get a grip on himself. "I'm too embarrassed to tell you…"

Burt hummed thoughtfully. "Well… does it have to do at all with the fact that you are in love with Kurt, or is this something else entirely?"

Blaine gasped, wondering if he had heard him correctly. "What… I'm… I don't…" he spluttered.

"Oh, buddy. Give me a break. You've been in love with Kurt since you were still kids. You can't fool anyone with those damn heart eyes of yours… well, maybe my son. He tends to be a bit oblivious…"

"Burt, oh my god…" Blaine muttered, mortified. "I am so sorry."

"Why would you be sorry? I'm glad my son is loved, and as unconditionally as you love him," Burt replied, and Blaine closed his eyes and could see him perfectly, reclining in his favorite chair in the living room.

"Because I…" Blaine paused, feeling as if he was choking. How do you tell a man that you have slept with his son? How do you admit that you were completely blinded by your own feelings and couldn't stop for one second to think reasonably and realize that this wouldn't be good for Kurt? "I… _Isleptwithhim_…"

There was a long silence, and Blaine actually checked the phone to make sure the call hadn't been disconnected. But no, Burt was still there, and the longer he didn't say anything, the worse Blaine felt. He had loved this man as if he were his own father since he was seventeen years old, and now… what would Burt think of him?

"You slept with Kurt," Burt repeated at last, and a part of Blaine had hoped he hadn't understood his useless mumbling. But luck wasn't on his side lately.

Blaine gulped. "Yes, sir. I'm… I'm sorry. It was after Rachel's party. I have no excuse…"

"Blaine," Burt said, interrupting him before Blaine went on one of his very long apologetic rants. "I know sex complicates things, so I'm guessing you two had a fight or something?"

"Kurt said…" Blaine choked at the memories. God, it had been so awful… "Kurt said I should have stopped us. He… he sounded like I… like I forced him." There was another pause, and Blaine could already picture Burt calling the police on him. "I swear, Burt. I would never do that to Kurt. I just… in that moment we were so…"

"You can spare me the details," Burt grunted. "I don't need to know all of it. But I already know one thing, Blaine, and that is that you're incapable of hurting anyone, much less Kurt. You would let all of the cabs in New York City run over you before you let something happen to him."

"But he said…" Blaine stuttered nervously.

"I will talk to him and get his side of things," Burt said, and that didn't Blaine feel any better. "But if there's something I know about my son, it's that when he's stressed out and going through a lot… he tends to snap and say hurtful things he doesn't mean. We both know how bad these past few months were for him…"

Blaine couldn't stop the next thing that came out of his mouth. He just blurted it, hurt and miserable. "He called me Mark."

"What?"

"Kurt. He… he called me Mark when we woke up," Blaine wiped his tears away and shivered in the cold December air. He should have grabbed his coat before he left the bar. "Maybe he just wanted to pretend I was him. Maybe that's why he did it…"

"I can't tell you why he did it," Burt replied calmly. "But I wish he didn't have to hurt your feelings for it."

"I should have known," Blaine shrugged. "I've been by his side since Mark died. I comforted him every time he was in pain, held him when he cried, made sure he ate and slept… I should have known that being with me like that wasn't what he truly wanted. Why would he want it, anyway, even if he hadn't lost his husband?"

"Blaine Devon Anderson, any guy would be lucky to have you, especially my son," Burt reprimanded him firmly. "So don't go around talking about yourself as if you had nothing to offer."

"Burt, I…" Blaine shook his head. "I thought you'd hate me for this…"

"Like I said, I'm going to talk to Kurt and get his version of the story," Burt said, making Blaine deflate again. "But Blaine… unless you're suddenly a serial killer or a rapist, I can't think of a single reason to hate you. You're practically a Hummel by now…"

Blaine sniffed. "Isn't love supposed to make life worth living? Why has it only made me miserable?"

"I can't answer that, buddy. Life's the way it is. It's cruel that you've been in love with Kurt for so long without having him, just like it's cruel that Kurt, Carole and I lost the ones we loved so early on. Life doesn't come with warnings. It just takes you by surprise, whether you like it or not. You can only decide where you wanna go and how you're going to handle whatever it throws at you…" Burt's voice was soft and paternal, and it almost felt as if he was giving Blaine one of his trademarks pats on the back.

"I just don't know what to do…" Blaine sighed tiredly. He looked around at the streets of New Jersey spreading before him. "I actually… I left New York. That probably makes me a coward, but I felt like I needed to get away. I don't want to hurt him anymore, and I don't think he wants to see me, so…"

"Where are you?" Burt asked, once again sounding worried.

"On tour with the band. We're in Jersey now, and we're going all around the country, apparently…" Blaine explained. Nothing made sense, not even this plan, but it was the only thing he had, and he knew he had to go through with it. "We are going to be away for a few months. I don't know how long. Maybe I won't even go back to New York…"

"Isn't that a little too much?" Burt questioned. "I mean, I know you're hurt now and that you and Kurt possibly need some distance, but… don't let this rule the rest of your life. And just because he's upset now, it doesn't mean he won't come to his senses… he loves you, Blaine…"

"No, he doesn't," Blaine interrupted determinedly. "He made himself clear about that."

Burt exhaled slowly, as if he was losing his patience with these boys. "Give it time, Blaine. Go on your tour, have fun, stop by to visit if you come to Ohio… and then go back and fix things with him. A friendship like the one you two have… it can't end like this."

"It's just… I don't ever want to see him looking at me like he did that morning ever again," Blaine said brokenly. "I can't take that again, Burt."

"Don't beat yourself over this. I know the two of you better than anyone else in this world. You two have always been good kids. Everyone makes mistakes, but you would never intentionally hurt the other. So just take some time for yourself, let him heal as much as he needs to heal, and then make amends. Because I know for sure that you two cannot live without each other," Burt said firmly. "So be smart about it, but don't give up. Deal?"

Blaine nodded slowly. He still didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew Burt was right. "Deal."

"Good. Now tell me about your show tonight. Did you play that song you wrote that Carole and I like so much?"

There were a lot of things Blaine wasn't sure of, but there was one he would never ever doubt – he never wanted to lose the Hummels.

* * *

><p>Kurt felt as if he had fallen into a large, black hole, and it didn't matter how much he jumped to try to grip the edges and pull himself out, he was still stuck.<p>

Every morning, he woke up and stared at his ceiling for a very, very long time, trying to find the one reason to get out of bed and start his day. His boutique wasn't enough to motivate him anymore, his designs were uninspired and dull, and the silence that greeted him each night when he finally got back home made it all seem worthless.

Rachel had stopped by numerous times, but she was a busy woman, and Kurt didn't want to add babysitting him to her daily obligations. She began stopping by one or two times a week to make sure his fridge was stocked, and dedicated her free Mondays to him, forcing him to go out to the park and breathe some fresh air.

He was too tired to tell her to stop, so he simply played along and waited as patiently as possible until she was gone.

Kurt had been so used to having Blaine in his life, that he hadn't noticed exactly how much of it his best friend filled until he was gone. His evenings were lonely, his TV marathons weren't as fun as they used to be, and he was always cooking enough for two. He missed the vague sound of Blaine stroking his guitar in the background while Kurt worked on his sketches, and how Blaine always knew, without a single word being uttered, exactly when Kurt needed a hug. He missed feeling Blaine's arms wrapping around him, an instant source of comfort and love.

He missed Blaine.

He knew he had been unfair – the things he had said to Blaine must have left a very deep cut in him. His outburst had melted away hours later, leaving him raw and breathless, not knowing how he had been capable of accusing Blaine of something so horrible. And yet, he couldn't make himself grab the phone and call him, not even to apologize.

Kurt was a coward.

He was scared that the call would make things worse. Blaine had left, so he obviously didn't want anything to do with Kurt. Kurt wanted to apologize, but he wasn't sure what to say about what had happened besides that. He had had sex with his best friend and later called him by his dead husband's name – what could Kurt possibly say to fix this mess? _I'm sorry_ wasn't enough. Not anymore.

Would anything ever be enough? Kurt wished he knew the answer.

* * *

><p>The one thing that usually kept Kurt up at night was trying to convince himself that he hadn't cheated on Mark.<p>

"Kid…" His father had said during one of the many phone calls they shared those days. "I know you can't see it now, because you're still grieving, but life goes on. One day, you're going to wake up and realize you're ready to start dating again, and there will be a new man in your life… but that doesn't mean you don't love Mark anymore."

Kurt knew that, logically, his father was right. What he and Blaine had done hadn't changed what he had felt for Mark. Even though he couldn't picture himself with a new man, he knew it was something that would probably be in the cards for him in the future. Burt Hummel had found love after losing the love of his life – it could happen for his son, too.

"You're talking about something far off in the future, Dad," Kurt retorted, exhausted. "What I did with Blaine…"

"You slipped up. It's okay to be lonely, to look for someone to fill that empty space again, to make you forget for a while about what you lost," Burt interrupted. He had been so patient with Kurt since they had talked about the night of Rachel's party, and Kurt couldn't be more grateful for him. "Maybe you weren't ready to commit to something bigger. Maybe it was a shock the next morning when the hormones calmed down. But it doesn't mean it was wrong. And it doesn't make Blaine a horrible person…"

"I know," Kurt muttered miserably.

"If you know, you should probably let _him_ know," Burt remarked pointedly. "He's been torturing himself over this."

"I can't talk to him," Kurt shook his head stubbornly. "Not yet."

"Kurt," Burt sighed, and Kurt knew without seeing him that he was removing his cap and rubbing a hand over his head. God, he missed his dad. "Since Mark died you seemed to have been waiting for some kind of sign to let you know it's time to go back to your life, to take control, to stop feeling bad about yourself. I know it's difficult to navigate through life after you lose someone you love, but that sign is not gonna come, kiddo. If you want to move on, you have to do it yourself. You can remember Mark and the good times you had together without turning it into a tear fest every time. It doesn't matter how much you cry and sit home alone wishing for things to be different. He's not coming back."

Kurt bit back a sob and curled his legs against his chest, pressing the phone against his ear tightly. "Why are you being so cruel?"

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be. I just want you to be realistic. No one's going to come knocking on your door with an official notice, telling you it's finally okay to _feel_ okay. If you want your life back, go get it," Burt said, making sure to emphasize every word so it would get through his son's thick head. "You just go out there, do your thing, enjoy your life, walk through the park, go out with your friends, make amends with Blaine, go to work… and the pain will slowly go away, until you can't really feel it anymore, until it's a memory, until you're able to see a picture of the person you loved without crying for an hour about it."

"But Dad…"

"I didn't raise you to give up, kiddo," Burt cut him off once again, and Kurt bit his lip. "Since your mom died, I spent every single day trying to make you understand that there is never a reason to give up. There will always be heartaches, Kurt, you'll find them every way, in every stage of life, in every shape and size. But you are the only one who can decide if that one heartache is the one that will take you down once and for all, or make you stronger. And Kurt, you're not the kind of guy who gets taken down, not without a fight…"

Kurt could feel the tears building in his eyes, but his father's words made a small smile appear on his lips. "And we Hummels don't get pushed around, right?"

"You got that right," Burt said with a low chuckle. "Just don't ever feel bad or guilty about doing something that could potentially make you happy, in any way. It doesn't matter if nothing happens between you and Blaine ever again, or if you end up meeting some new guy down the road, or whatever it is you end up doing… you just have to know that if it makes you happy, it can't be wrong."

Kurt swallowed with difficulty and nodded, once again wishing he could fall into his father's arms. "Okay, Dad," he murmured, and it sounded like a promise.

* * *

><p>Every state seemed to look exactly the same in Blaine's eyes. It didn't matter how diverse they truly were – he wasn't in the mood to marvel at any of the sights. They were a month into their tour, and Blaine wasn't sure what he dreaded most – continuing on the road, or heading home when it was all over.<p>

Nothing particularly interesting had happened. Sometimes they had trouble finding places where they could play, sleeping in the van got old after about two and a half days, and Blaine was growing a spectacularly unkempt beard that didn't match his personality at all, but seemed to fit in with the population in Nashville pretty well. He had seen at least fifteen country musicians in the past two hours who had sported very similar looks.

He stopped by the bar and ordered a beer, happy that he wasn't the designated driver tonight, and leaned against the wooden counter, idly listening to the current band on stage. It was an all-girls band with a kick-ass banjo player, and Blaine was actually hoping to catch her when she stepped down from the stage to ask her for advice. He had always wanted to learn how to play.

His phone vibrated in the back pocket of his jeans, and Blaine rolled his eyes in anticipation. It was probably Cooper again – he had bombarded Blaine with texts all day. His brother was having a bit of a crisis trying to come up with the perfect baby name for his still unborn child, and Blaine had had to talk him out of choosing showbiz-related terms that would have given the poor kid trauma later in life.

But when he looked at the screen, he gaped at the name, because it wasn't his brother's.

It was Kurt.

The text was simple and short, but as soon as Blaine opened it, he felt his heart beat a little faster than it had in the previous weeks.

_From: Kurt._

_I miss you._

Blaine sipped his beer, staring at the screen, trying not to blink too much, scared he was imagining it. He didn't answer right away – what if the text was meant for someone else? Maybe Kurt would send a follow up text apologizing for the mistake, and then all of Blaine's hopes would be dashed.

After ten minutes and two slow painful songs about lost lovers and missed chances, though, Blaine bit his lip and replied with the only thing he could come up with.

_To: Kurt._

_I miss you, too._

It wasn't a magic solution, but it was a step in the right direction, and Blaine would take that over never-ending silence any day.

* * *

><p>Just one little text opened a door that had been closed until then. After that night, there were more texts, sporadic, but enough to keep a little flame of hope in Blaine's heart.<p>

Kurt never said much – he would text things like _I hope you're having fun on the tour_ or _break a leg tonight_. They weren't long, meaningful conversations, but Kurt was back – hovering somewhere in the background and tentatively seeing when he could push his way back up front.

After a few more days of seeing how things went, Blaine dared to text Kurt a picture. It was of him, standing in front of the _Ohio Welcomes You_ sign on the highway, adding his own little message under it: _It's nice to be back home. Wish you were here._ The next day, it was a picture of him and Burt at the tire shop. Kurt seemed so pleased to be getting visual updates that Blaine decided to make it a thing. From then on, every time he found something interesting in one of their stops, he sent Kurt a picture.

The conversation was stilted, almost frightened, as if they were careful not to take a step in the wrong direction. Blaine's heart hurt at that – they had never had any reservations around each other, had always been able to speak their minds and trust each other, no questions asked. But at least the silent period was over.

It wasn't until he was sitting in the back of the van somewhere in Chicago, alone in the darkness, that he dared to text the one question that had been pounding in his head since he left.

_To: Kurt._

_How are you?_

Blaine waited for the answer while mindlessly picking at one of the sandwiches Jimmy had picked for everyone at a gas station earlier. It made him think of how much he missed real food, meals cooked by Kurt and eaten peacefully at the little kitchen table, legs brushing underneath with every little shift.

There were so many simple things he had taken for granted…

His phone vibrated a few minutes later, and the reply was a lot shorter than he expected.

_From: Kurt._

_Okay, you?_

He knew Kurt well. Blaine could immediately tell when he was lying or hiding something, a skill that had been invaluable as Kurt's best friend over the years. When Kurt was okay, he would be more detailed in his reply. He would have said he was tired after work, or babbled about a client, or about some random bizarre stranger in the subway. He would elaborate about his day, give Blaine little glimpses into his life, so he would feel like he had been a part of everything right alongside him. But when Kurt wasn't okay, he didn't say much at all.

He shut down. And Blaine knew that very well, because he had witnessed how his friend shut down almost completely in the past six months since Mark's death.

Blaine took a deep breath, and decided to push for more, hoping it wouldn't be the wrong thing to do.

_To: Kurt._

_You do remember I know you better than anyone, right? There's nothing wrong with admitting you're not okay, Kurt. I would never judge you. Not for this, not for anything else._

Kurt took his time to reply once again. The silence of the van was filled with the sounds of Chicago, traffic and people walking down the street. He briefly wondered where the others were, but realized he didn't care. Not right now. They had time until they had to be on stage, and he wanted some time for himself. For Kurt.

_From: Kurt._

_I'm… not okay. But I want to be._

Blaine hadn't expected to get Kurt to be honest so easily. He stared at the text for a minute or two, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and trying to figure out what to do. Before he could reply again, he got another message from Kurt.

_From: Kurt._

_You didn't answer my question, though. How are you?_

Blaine decided to let it slide. Honesty was better than silence, but it also required patience. Kurt would tell him everything he needed to tell him at his own time. He couldn't push him.

_To: Kurt._

_I'm pretty sure the sandwich I'm eating expired at least a week ago, I'm tired of sleeping in the van, and my beard is itchy._

This time, Kurt's reply was a lot quicker.

_From: Kurt._

_No one said the life of a touring band was glamorous._

Blaine was beginning to type his response when another text came right after that one.

_From: Kurt._

_And I've been holding back on commenting on that beard after all the pics you've sent me, but… oh my god, Blaine. Shave that dead cat off your face._

Blaine barked out a laugh, the first genuine one since he had left New York. It felt like it was a healing one.

* * *

><p>They didn't talk on the phone, and Kurt tried not to think about how much he missed listening to Blaine's voice.<p>

He ached with the longing.

Blaine had been on tour for almost four months now, and Mark had been gone for almost eight. Life began to pick up a different pace, and Kurt was trying to adjust.

It was an emptier life. Rachel was around, his father called constantly, and Annie even dragged him out for drinks once or twice, but the fundamental pieces of his existence were gone. He knew one of them was going to be missing forever, but he hoped the Blaine-shaped one would fall back into place at some point.

He still hadn't apologized. It felt stupid to do it over the phone. Blaine didn't bring up the incident – could Kurt really call it an incident, looking back on it? When the memories of his night with Blaine stopped making his skin crawl with self-loathing and sent shivers down his spine, making him blush instead? – and Kurt felt like he needed to look Blaine in the eyes and tell him how sorry he was, get on his knees if necessary, beg. What he had said had been cruel and uncalled for, and he needed Blaine to know how much he regretted it.

But Blaine hadn't said a single word about when the tour would be over, or even if he would return to New York, and Kurt was starting to panic.

He panicked because he needed his best friend, because he didn't know who to turn to when he wasn't around, because he missed Blaine's smiling face, and the way he would always know when he needed a hug without Kurt needing to tell him. He panicked because he didn't know if Blaine was on this tour because he truly wanted to be or because Kurt had pushed him away. He panicked because he didn't want Blaine to think he loved him any less because of what had happened.

He panicked because, in fact, he was starting to believe he actually loved him more.

Kurt didn't know when the realization hit. It might have been with one of the random pictures – that beard really did look awful on him, but it made him even more adorable, which shouldn't have been possible – or with one of the many memories he had of him. It might have been the absence, the way Kurt felt raw with it, like he was missing a vital part of himself. It might have been something that had lied under the surface for many, many years, finally coming back up to choke him and free him at the same time.

Kurt was falling in love with Blaine – or maybe he had never stopped being in love with him at all.

When his feelings pushed to the front, flashing in neon lights as if trying to get his attention, Kurt expected the guilt to set heavily on his stomach. He waited for the same self-loathing he had become familiar with. But neither came. Yes, he still had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that looking at another attractive man didn't mean he was cheating on Mark or failing him in any way, but it didn't seem to push down on him, like a dead weight trying to break him.

It felt a bit more like relief.

Kurt wasn't sure about what he wanted to do with those feelings – he didn't even know if he would do something about them at all. But fighting them, disregarding them as sick and wrong… no. If Blaine was the source of those feelings, then there could never be anything sick or wrong about them. Not when Blaine was sheer joy, comfort and kindness.

After many conversations with his dad, drawing from Burt's own experiences, he had finally begun to understand he was allowed to put an end to his misery and find a brighter future. He wasn't a hundred percent there yet, but he was dealing with it, instead of hiding under the covers in his bed and telling himself he was a horrible person.

One night, Kurt had a dream about Mark. He saw his smile and felt the warmth of his embrace. They stayed tangled in each other for a very, very long time. It was comforting and familiar. Mark swayed him back and forth slowly, as if he wanted to dance but didn't dare disturb Kurt. Then he dropped a kiss on top of Kurt's head and pulled away softly, his stunning eyes fixing on Kurt for a moment. Kurt felt breathless, and he couldn't move, although he didn't feel the need to. In other dreams, he had struggled to pull Mark towards him, as if he could save him, keep him. But this time, Kurt simply watched him, feeling calm, and eventually Mark gave him one last smile and walked away.

When Kurt woke up in the morning, it was the first time in a very long time that he didn't start the day off wiping desperate tears from his face, and the pain seemed to have melted into a manageable ache rooted deep inside his chest.

For the first time since Mark's death, Kurt had the absolute certainty that he would be okay.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading. Please review.<strong>

**There are only two chapters left. I can't believe how quickly these stories end!**

**Have a nice week and I'll see you again soon!**

**L.-**


	8. Acceptance

**Happy Klaine Anniversary, guys!**

**I know the update is a date later, but I thought it would be nice to update today since it's such a special day for our boys. I hope you don't mind :)**

**Thank you for all the wonderful reviews. We're just a step away from the end.**

**Thanks for my lovely betas, Wutif and Christine!**

**The songs in this chapter are by Mt. Desolation (_The Midnight Ghost_ and _Coming Home_).**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

><p>Blaine's eyes were closed and his lips were almost pressed against the microphone. The stage lights were hot on his sweaty skin, and his light blue shirt was clinging to his back. The soft beat of the drum and the gentle rhythm of the bass seemed to echo the beats of his own heart.<p>

_The midnight ghost is roaring on its way  
>Goes through California up to Oakland and the bay<br>My travelling can be lonesome, but I'm happy 'cause I'm bound  
>For the bright lights and the harbour of Euges Town<em>

The audience was quiet and small. It was a Wednesday night and only a handful of people had stopped by this bar in Washington. There was a slight drizzle falling outside, and it seemed to reflect Blaine's mood somehow.

_I've tried so long to be what the world expects of me  
>But I'm blind by this craving to be free<em>

The light reveals I'm empty  
>But I've got everything I want on the midnight ghost<p>

The song had a sensual, melancholic beat. Blaine was sitting at the piano – a beautiful baby grand that looked like it belonged anywhere but in this hole-in-the-wall bar with sticky, worn wooden tables and cheap beer.

_The station masters flashlight is sweeping low and wide.  
>seeking out the stragglers trying to hitch a free ride<br>I know these wound out rail yards  
>like I know my sun-cracked face<br>and I slip on board as the zipper gathers pace._

_I got no lover, I have no kid, no kin_  
><em>waiting on this engine rolling in.<em>  
><em>No my only friends and help means<em>  
><em>since we tear on up the coast<em>  
><em>are some red wine and the rattle of the midnight ghost<em>

The song came to an end very slowly, and he could feel Georgina's penetrating gaze fixed on him. His voice was raw and his face showed how tired he was.

There was some light applause and Blaine nodded his thanks, needing a moment to find himself again. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was, all the way across the country from the place he used to call his home, from the _person_ he used to call his home.

Texts weren't enough – Blaine _missed_ Kurt. He missed him so much it hurt. But he didn't know what to do, and there were still plenty of cities to visit. Almost six months on the road, and it didn't look like they had a return ticket yet. Georgina was excited about California, saying they could meet some interesting people there, stay for a while, catch someone's attention and hopefully find the big break that had eluded them so far.

But while Georgina, Rick and Jimmy talked about how amazing it would be to finally sign a contract and know for sure they could make a living with their music, Blaine sat quietly in a corner, thinking of playing his guitar distractedly in Kurt's living room while he watched Kurt move around the kitchen, with the delicious smells of his cooking filling the apartment. He thought of Kurt's smile when he played a song he liked, of how he would join him, singing and dancing as he stirred the pasta.

Music would always be his passion, but Kurt was his heart, his breath and his life.

Blaine swallowed thickly and reached for his drink, carefully placed on the floor besides him. He took a sip and tried to focus back on the show. Jimmy arched an eyebrow at him, and he nodded, standing up and reaching for his guitar.

They began playing the next song as if Blaine hadn't left his heart on stage with his last one.

* * *

><p>Kurt broke off a piece of pretzel, and popped it into his mouth as he walked leisurely across the park. It was a beautiful warm sunny day in Central Park, so it was teeming with people enjoying the weather. He'd thought about inviting Rachel to join him, but she was always busy and he didn't mind being by himself. He'd gotten used to it since Blaine had left.<p>

He sat at an empty shaded bench and watched a couple of kids rolling down a grassy hill, laughing. The older one helped his little brother to his feet, their smiles enormous. Kurt could see the gaps from the missing baby teeth, from where he sat. They ran back up the hill to where a young couple sat on the blanket, and started rolling again.

Their carelessness at the green grass stains on their clothes looked a lot like freedom to Kurt.

An old man sat next to him on the bench. He had a cute black Scottish Terrier with him. The dog was wearing a red bowtie and Kurt couldn't help cooing at him, immediately asking the man permission to snap a picture of his pet.

He texted it to Blaine, adding a little message to it: _He's sitting next to me in the park and he made me think of you._

Blaine's response arrived just two minutes later, and it made Kurt smile.

_To: Kurt_

_Are you trying to tell me I'm a puppy?_

_From: Kurt_

_The resemblance is uncanny._

Kurt bit his lip as he waited for Blaine to reply again. Things felt easier, lighter, better. It was almost like old times.

It was a good ten minutes before he got Blaine's reply, but when Kurt opened the text, the wait was totally worth it. It was a picture of Blaine, pouting, wearing a red bowtie. His curly hair was completely out of control, unstyled as if he'd just rolled out of bed. And his beard looked bushy enough to evoke a caveman.

He cackled so loudly that the dog tilted his head at him, startled.

He stopped so suddenly that the old man turned to him sharply, as if wanting to check if he was okay. Kurt gaped at him for a moment, inhaling shakily, before a grin slowly grew on his lips.

"I…" He murmured. "I'm in love with him."

The man seemed terribly confused, but Kurt had no time to explain. For the first time in months, he felt the guilt had completely extinguished. It was gone. He felt like a balloon that had been filled to its fullest extent – he was ready to float away.

After so many months of pain and self-loathing, Kurt knew he was ready to move on, and the realization hit him so abruptly that it left him breathless for a moment.

"Are you alright?" The man asked him, concerned.

Kurt leaned to pet the dog softly, as if thanking him for playing a little but important part in this discovery. Then he smiled at the man. "I think I finally am."

The sun was shining brightly over him, and Kurt sighed in contentment as he let it soak through his skin.

* * *

><p>It was a beautiful summer night and Kurt was sitting outside in the fire escape. He had a bottle of wine and his phone balancing on his leg. He looked down at it, took a good sip from his glass, and then dialed the number he had been dying to dial for months now.<p>

"Please don't be on stage right now, please don't be on stage right now, please don't…" Kurt muttered to himself, but then he heard the distinctive sound of the call being accepted and a lot of background noise. "Blaine?"

"Kurt! Hi!" Blaine said, a little shocked. "Wow. I… I didn't think you would call…"

"Yeah, I…" Kurt took a deep breath. "I really missed your voice…"

"God, I missed yours too. It's so nice to talk to you, I…" Blaine chuckled incredulously. "Just give me one second to go outside so I can really hear you, okay?"

"Sure, sure… I can call later, if you're busy…" Kurt proposed. Why was he so nervous? He and Blaine had talked on the phone a million times before.

"Don't' you dare hang up," Blaine said teasingly, and then the background noise faded and Blaine sighed happily. "There. Man, it was hot in that bar…"

"Where are you tonight?"

"Vegas," Blaine answered. "And let me tell you… it's not as fun as everyone makes it sound. Or maybe I'm getting old."

Kurt snorted. "Oh, come on. I'm a year older than you, so don't you ever say that again."

"Like you could get old," Blaine said, and Kurt was sure he was rolling his eyes. "All those moisturizing routines will make you look twenty five even when you're eighty."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," Kurt murmured playfully, and Blaine laughed. "So… how are you?"

"Good. This trip has been… revealing, if nothing else. I've always thought I would love this kind of life, just touring around, playing random bars, sleeping wherever…" Blaine said thoughtfully. "But you know, it's tiring. I guess it would be so much better if we had someone more organized in charge, but Georgina keeps changing our plans every two hours. The playing part is fun. The rest, not so much."

"Do you miss New York?" Kurt asked, a little scared of the answer.

"Every day," Blaine replied simply, as if he wasn't making Kurt's heart race and fill with hope with those words. "I've been to some amazing places, but I don't think any place in the world could compare to New York…"

"So… you're coming back?" Kurt dared to question timidly.

There was a little pause, but Blaine finally talked again. "I wasn't so sure I would, a few months ago, but… I think I will."

It was Kurt's turn to be silent now. His stomach churned with guilt, and even though he wanted to wait until he saw Blaine again to talk about this, he didn't want to wait. He didn't want this cloud hanging over their heads anymore. It needed to be acknowledged. "Blaine, I… I can't tell you how sorry I am for the things I said to you. I never meant to hurt you or send you away. I know you deserve a lot more than a phone call and an apology, but… I feel awful. I felt awful immediately after I left your apartment. I want to make it up to you, but I don't think I'll ever find something big enough to."

"Kurt, it's fine," Blaine said, and he sounded a little tired and a lot regretful. "I know why you said those things. I know it wasn't truly about me. You were mad at what we had done, and you weren't ready for it. Don't torture yourself over it…"

"You've always been too damn kind to me, Blaine Anderson," Kurt said, exasperated. "You have the right to be upset and to tell me I'm an asshole. You should have slapped me, even. But I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. You're a wonderful guy, Blaine. You would never do such horrible things."

"I really wouldn't," Blaine murmured. "But I'm still sorry, too. I… what I said… I shouldn't have sprung my feelings on you like that, when you were already freaking out and upset. I should have had more tact. I truly have no excuse. I guess I was bound to explode and tell you, with how long I had been keeping it locked inside…"

Kurt bit his lip. This wasn't the direction he had expected the phone call to take, but it was good that they were talking, being honest. Maybe that's why they had kept to text messages and pictures only. They couldn't help being upfront with each other when they talked. They had needed to wait until they were ready to face what they had to say.

"Did you…" Kurt cleared his throat awkwardly. "Did you go on this tour to forget me?"

He felt like an idiot for asking that, but he needed to know.

Blaine didn't seem to have problems answering. Maybe now that his biggest secret had been revealed, he didn't want to keep anything else to himself. "I needed the distance. I felt like I would just hurt the both of us if I stayed. I needed to think clearly, and I couldn't do that there. But yes, my main reason to leave was to try to forget you."

It was like getting a punch to the stomach. Kurt fought to control his breathing and keep his tears at bay. "And… did you succeed?"

Blaine sighed. "You're pretty unforgettable, Kurt," he chuckled bitterly. "No, I… I'm sorry. I'm sorry if my being in love with you makes things awkward, but I promise.."

"No," Kurt interrupted, because he couldn't let Blaine think that loving him was wrong any longer. "No. I really, really love the way you love me, Blaine. It's nice to be loved by you."

The silence that followed was heavy with questions that neither dared to ask. Kurt could hear Blaine breathing with difficulty on the other end.

"We probably have a lot to talk about when I come back to New York, huh?" Blaine muttered in a low, careful voice.

Kurt smiled. His eyes were watery and he fixed them on a random point on the street below him. He imagined Blaine standing there, looking up at him and smiling. He imagined him climbing up the fire escape. He imagined the kiss they could share if he was there. He imagined how good it would feel, how right. And then he looked up at the sky, where others told him Mark was now, and hoped his husband, wherever he was, was happy for him. That Kurt was honoring him by not allowing sadness to bury him in darkness forever.

"We do, yeah," Kurt replied softly. "So Blaine… please come home."

There was only one more whisper before the call ended. It felt like a caress and like a promise all at the same time. "I will, Kurt."

* * *

><p>Of all the shows they had played so far – and they were too many to keep count – Blaine was sure the one in San Francisco would be the best one. He had had such a great time on stage, and the city was beautiful. If there was one place he would ever be able to trade New York for, it would probably be San Francisco.<p>

He walked from the stage to the bar to get another beer, and was immediately intercepted by a guy, who put his hand on Blaine's forearm and squeezed.

"You were amazing up there, honey," he said. He was flirting so blatantly that Blaine blushed, unsure of what to do. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"I… I'm very flattered, but I'm…"

There was absolutely no reason to say no. Blaine was single, had been for a very long time now, and the one man he was in love with didn't feel the same. But he still felt guilty – stupidly – for even thinking about looking at another guy.

"You're taken, aren't you?" The man said, pouting in disappointment. "All the cute ones like you usually are."

"Yeah, I am. He's… I really love him," Blaine answered, not sure why he kept talking.

"He's a lucky man," the stranger winked at him and disappeared in the crowd.

Blaine continued towards the bar. He was reaching for his wallet to pay for his beer when another man approached him. He was older, sophisticated almost, with greying hair. He was handsome, Blaine couldn't deny that.

"I got it," the man said, and paid before Blaine could even protest. "Hi. My name's Peter Wallace."

"I'm Blaine," he said, accepting the hand the man offered. "Thank you for the drink. You didn't have to pay for it. I… I'm taken," he decided to keep the same excuse. It had worked with the last guy, at least.

Peter held his hands up. "I'm not trying to seduce you, Blaine. Just wanted to tell you I really enjoyed your show. You're very talented."

"Wow, thank you," Blaine answered happily. It was the first time someone approached them actively to say something like that. "I'm glad you enjoyed our set."

"I really did. Are you a songwriter? I noticed there were a few original pieces," Peter sat on a stool at the bar, and Blaine did the same, settling in for the conversation.

"I am," Blaine nodded enthusiastically. "We mainly play covers, but I love writing so… sometimes we give my songs a shot."

"Anyone can be a cover band. Not everyone has the talent to produce their own material," Peter said, fixing him with a pointed glance. "But you do, Blaine. Those songs were the best part, and you looked… so lost in them. Like you truly believed what you were singing about. You can't always get that with songs someone else wrote…"

Blaine chuckled nervously. "I honestly don't know what to say. That's so kind of you."

"Well, I'll _tell_ you what you can say. You can say yes to my contract offer." Peter said, leaning closer to be heard over the background noise. "I own a music production company. We hire songwriters for many of the major pop stars on the radio. I've worked with people who have had number one hits on every chart world-wide. They've won awards and appeared on magazine covers..."

"Wait," Blaine stopped him. His head was suddenly spinning so he put his beer down. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"You have a way with lyrics, and you are pretty damn good with a melody too. I think you would be a perfect fit for my clients. We're always looking for fresh new material. I hope you have a lot of songs like those in your back pocket…"

"You're offering me a job," Blaine mumbled, shocked.

"I am. We still have to discuss the details, but unless there are some surprises, the job is yours."

Blaine stared at him, feeling like a fish out of the water. "You don't even know me."

Peter smiled. "Blaine. I've heard your songs. I think I know everything I need to know."

Blaine licked his lips nervously. This was a huge opportunity, but he wanted to be smart about it. "I… I'm not from San Francisco."

"Neither am I. I just travel a lot to scout new talent." Peter stood, and reached into his jacket pocket to extract a business card. "My contact information is on there. Give me a call tomorrow and we'll set up a meeting."

Blaine watched him walk away, dumbfounded. He felt like he was dreaming. His head was swimming and the music was too loud. The edges of the business card dug into his palm. He looked down at it, and inhaled sharply when he read the address of the office.

It was in Manhattan.

* * *

><p><em>We've all got to dream of something,<br>tall buildings or wet sand between our toes,  
>or fast cars and fancy clothes. <em>

The piano keys felt like cool velvet under his fingers, as he played, caressing them like a lover giving pleasure. His head was bowed, his lips touching the microphone in an intimate kiss between him and the words.

_Some folks spend their whole lives fighting  
>while some find the good life drops in their lap<br>nothing ever will close that gap  
>You just got to jump onboard<br>and hope you'll find your reward. _

Blaine looked back on the past few months. There had been so much heartache and confusion, so much uncertainty. He hadn't known where he would end by the time they reached their last destination, where he would go from there. But he had hoped, through it all, that whatever was waiting at the end would be good.

_Soon that day will come your urge to roam will relent,  
>so make your move, make your peace, make amends,<br>we're all coming home in the end_

The phone call had been so hopeful. Blaine looked back on it now, a few nights later, and knew that what he would find in New York would be a lot better than what he had left behind. In the worst case scenario, he would get his best friend back. And that wasn't a bad scenario at all…

_I've travelled so far so quickly  
>the continent spinning beneath my wings<br>ticking boxes, acquiring things,  
>but the further I go I find, I just want what I left behind<em>

A curvy, overwhelming canyon in Arizona. A colorful field of tulips in Washington. The wilderness of Colorado. Caverns in New Mexico. A gorgeous waterfall in Texas. The stunning Lake Tahoe in the limit between Nevada and California…

And still, Kurt remained the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

_Maybe love will lead me back to your door  
>the need to feel something simple and pure, like I did before,<br>how we strain our necks to see what's around the next bend  
>or waste our hours chasing fair-weather friends<br>we're all coming home in the end. _

It was their last night, their last stop in Los Angeles. He felt like he had seen and done everything he had expected to see and do in this trip. He had checked every little item on his list. Except the one he had never been able to do, regardless of location, time or circumstances.

Forgetting Kurt.

_So fly, don't shy from some afar desired prize  
>a million miles from where we lie,<br>Cos your flight is one enormous circle looping wide  
>to bring you right back to my side,<br>oh, oh, oh_

Blaine repeated the last line over and over until the music began to fade. It tasted like nectar in his mouth – sweet, hopeful and a little impatient. Like he knew exactly what was going to happen once he finished singing.

He was coming home.

He was coming home to Kurt.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much for reading! Please review, it would be the best birthday present ;)<strong>

**Also, during this week, I'm doing the Glee Farewell Project, accepting prompts for drabbles and one-shots over in Tumblr, and that includes all my previous stories, like Syrup and Honey, The Awakening and more. If there's anything you've ever wanted to read about any of my old 'verses (or you want a brand new AU or canon compliant drabble!) now's the time to find out :) Learn more about this project in my blog: heartsmadeofbooks.**

**Love and hugs for everyone on this last week of Glee. It has been a pleasure sharing these past few years with you.**

**I'll see you on the other side!**

**L.-**


	9. Happiness

**Hey guys.**

**I'm sure we are all feeling very raw after the Glee finale last night, but I want to take a second to look back on the amazing journey we shared and thank you for letting me a tiny little part of it by reading my stories. I'm not saying anything about the episode in case someone hasn't watched it yet, but I'm happy. So, so happy. Glee was the show of my life, and I can't believe I'm using past tense to talk about it.**

**Before I start crying AGAIN, let me thank you for the awesome reviews, and thank my betas, Wutif and Chistine, for all their hard work on not only this, BUT ALL MY STORIES. They have been absolutely wonderful, and I can't put down in words just how much they mean to me. They're my best friends now, and we started this as total strangers. That's what I'm most grateful for when it comes to Glee.**

**I own nothing, but I certainly hope you will enjoy this last chapter.**

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><p>Anna rapped her knuckles against the open door to announce her presence, and Kurt looked up at her briefly, attention snapping right back to the beautiful magenta evening gown he was working on.<p>

"I'm leaving now. Are you staying much longer?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest and watching Kurt with a disapproving eyebrow. "I was hoping you'd want to join me for some tacos."

"Tempting, but I think I'll pass," Kurt replied. "I really want to finish this one tonight. I have another piece I want to start on tomorrow…"

"You're a workaholic," Anna shook her head and sighed. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Kurt said, rolling his eyes at her. "You're not my mom, you know. You're actually younger than me…"

"Oh shush, you love it when I take care of you," she stepped into the office and dropped a kiss on top of Kurt's head. "I'll see you tomorrow then, if I can't bribe you with delicious tacos…"

"No, you can't. I'll see you tomorrow," he smiled up at her. "Turn the lights off when you leave. Have a nice evening, sweetie."

"Bye, boss!" She called teasingly over her shoulder, and Kurt hummed in response, immediately resuming his work.

He pulled the thread a little tighter to get the hem just right, and reached for the scissors when he was done, cutting it efficiently and admiring his work for a moment to make sure he had made no mistakes. It really was a beautiful dress, with a low, sexy cut in the back, suggestive but delicate. The color made it fresh and fun, and Kurt thought maybe Rachel would like it for one of the events she had coming up. He had been making her dresses for every single event she attended since before she made it big on stage.

He was turning it over on the work table to finish a few details on the back, when he heard a knock on the glass door. Frowning, Kurt put everything down and got up, his muscles popping after how long he had been hunched over his work.

"Did you forget your keys again, Annie?" Kurt chuckled, as he entered the dim store front. The reflected city lights gave him enough illumination to know that figure standing out there on the sidewalk definitely wasn't Anna.

It was a man. A man shorter than Kurt, who had unruly curls and a beard. His hazel eyes were wide and fixed on Kurt, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. As if Kurt was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

"Blaine?" Kurt mumbled, his voice cracking a little bit. He felt his smile pulling at his lips, and before he knew it, he was sprinting towards the door. "Blaine!"

Kurt unlocked and opened the door as quickly as he could. Over the last few months he had imagined the first time they saw each other after so long apart, a million times. Maybe he would pick Blaine up at the airport. Maybe he would invite him over for dinner and a long overdue conversation. Maybe they would meet at their favorite coffee shop. There had been many, many scenarios, but none of them had included him practically throwing himself at Blaine and pressing their lips together.

And none of those would have felt half as right as this one did.

Blaine gasped in surprise and barely managed to wrap his arms around Kurt's waist and hold on to him, stopping them from toppling over at the last possible second. But as soon as he caught up with what was happening, he kissed back hungrily, putting all the misery and uncertainty that had lived inside him since he had left into the kiss.

They held each other tightly, breathing heavily as they refused to let go. Kurt tilted his head slightly, sliding his lips over Blaine's softly, pushing them open with his tongue, until he was granted access gladly.

But just as things were getting deliciously heated, Kurt pulled away, half laughing, half crying.

"W-what… Kurt?" Blaine murmured, confused, his voice hoarse. The sound made a shiver travel down Kurt's spine. "Are you okay?"

Kurt leaned in for another kiss, but ended it quickly, shaking with laughter. "God, your stupid beard tickles."

Blaine laughed as well, but he seemed a little stunned by the new developments. "I… you kissed me."

"I did," Kurt said sheepishly, biting his lip. His arms were still tightly wound around Blaine's neck, and they were standing so, so close… "I missed you so much…"

"I missed you, too," Blaine whispered. His hand rubbed Kurt's back up and down, as if trying to convince himself that he was real. His eyes roamed over Kurt's face, searching.

Kurt leaned their foreheads together. "I guess there's a lot we need to talk about, huh?"

"Probably, yes," Blaine answered, and since it looked like he was allowed, he moved in for another kiss, tentatively. Kurt kissed back immediately, and they melted together as their mouths moved softly against each other.

Kurt sighed, his warm breath caressing Blaine's lips. "Let me close here and we can go to my place, okay?"

"Okay," Blaine agreed.

They released each other reluctantly, with quick smiles. Kurt hung the dress and tidied up quickly, then turned the lights off. It wasn't until he met Blaine outside that he saw that Blaine's bags and guitar case were on the sidewalk beside him.

"What do you say if we get a cab?" Kurt proposed. He didn't feel like walking to the subway station holding Blaine's luggage when he could be holding Blaine's hand instead.

"Yes, please. I took a chance you'd be here." Blaine dashed toward the street to flag down a passing cab.

They got his stuff in the trunk and then sat together in the backseat. Once Kurt had given his address to the driver, a heavy silence seemed to set inside the car. Their hands were resting on the seat between them, but neither dared to take the first step and reach out.

It wasn't until their eyes met that they realized they were being ridiculous – there had never been a reason to be nervous or embarrassed around each other. They had been best friends for a very long time now. There wasn't a single thing they didn't know about the other. There wasn't a single thing they couldn't share.

Blaine's finger brushed against the side of Kurt's hand and they both giggled like lovesick kids.

"Hi," Blaine muttered.

Kurt smiled brightly at him. "Hi."

"I really missed your smile," Blaine leaned his head back against the seat and simply looked at Kurt.

Kurt felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He squeezed Blaine's hand. "I would say the same, but I can't really see it under that bush you grew on your face."

Blaine cackled. God, he had missed this. This beautiful, easy banter. He had missed everything about them. "You're mean."

"No, _you_ are mean. You should have known I would want to see all of your glorious face as soon as you were back. Why did you have to cover it with all that hair?" Kurt pouted.

"I'll shave it off soon. I promise," Blaine raised Kurt's hand and kissed his knuckles. "It's really inconvenient anyway. I was asked to join at least three different country music bands, it's too hot to keep it, and a kid asked me if I was Santa's son…"

Kurt chuckled. "Oh… now _that_ kid was mean."

"I know! It's not even that long!" Blaine protested, completely offended.

Kurt melted. How had he been so stupid?

They got so lost in each other, that they didn't realize they arrived at Kurt's apartment until the driver cleared his throat very loudly. They gathered Blaine's stuff from the trunk and got everything inside. Kurt had no idea how Blaine had managed to pack enough clothes for six months in just two bags…

But he didn't have time to point it out, because as soon as the front door was closed behind them, they were staring at each other with the kind of fire in their eyes that threatened to burn the whole building down. They glanced down at each other's lips simultaneously, and Kurt inhaled sharply.

They launched at each other at the same time, their hands quickly grabbing for purchase on clothes and arms. Kurt moaned as he felt Blaine's tongue brush his bottom lip.

And then Blaine pulled away and Kurt's moan turned into a groan of frustration.

"Shouldn't we…" Blaine started breathlessly. "Shouldn't we talk? I mean… this is what got us in trouble the first time. I don't want to…"

Kurt nuzzled against his jaw. "I know. We will talk. But I promise you… it's alright now. I'm not going to freak out. I'm not going to hurt you again. I…" He paused and shifted so he could look Blaine in the eyes. "I really, _really_ want you, Blaine."

"My feelings haven't changed," Blaine whispered carefully. "They are still the same they have been for years now. If that makes you uncomfortable…"

"It doesn't," Kurt interrupted, smiling at him. He kissed him briefly. "It makes me happy."

It looked like Blaine could cry any minute now, so Kurt moved in for another kiss. He allowed himself to touch, to caress, to nuzzle. His fingertips grazed Blaine's face, as if trying to memorize it, before trailing down the column of his neck. His hands began a journey down his back. Once he reached his hips, Kurt moved them to the front and shifted back up, feeling the muscles of Blaine's stomach contract under his touch.

"Is this okay?" He asked in a low voice.

"It's perfect," Blaine replied. His eyes were closed and his lips parted, and he was already lost in bliss.

Kurt's hand reached his chest and his fingers slowly pulled his shirt away. He leaned in and sucked on his collarbone a little, making Blaine gasp and throw his head back. "What about this?"

"Kurt…" Blaine groaned. "You're killing me."

Kurt shifted to capture Blaine's mouth in a passionate kiss. They kissed until they couldn't breathe anymore, tongues moving together like some sort of perfect, sensual dance. When they parted, Blaine's eyes went dark as he noticed how red and swollen Kurt's lips were from kissing him.

He thumbed Kurt's bottom lip, loving how supple it felt and how Kurt's breath caught in his throat at it. "Sometimes I have a hard time believing you're real…"

Kurt's tongue poked out of his mouth and he wrapped it around the tip of Blaine's thumb. He pulled it into his mouth, sucking on it without taking his eyes away from Blaine's face, who seemed very close to catching fire.

Kurt brushed his lips over Blaine's again, slowly, seductively. The beard was scratchy against his lips and cheeks, but it only turned him on more. "Can I take you to bed now?"

Blaine took a few seconds to answer, busy first searching in Kurt's eyes for confirmation, for absolute certainty. He couldn't find any doubts there – Kurt knew what he wanted now.

"Yes," Blaine said at last, and just that one word, that one syllable, was charged with more desire than anything either of them had heard or said in their entire lives.

There was no going back, no regrets, no second thoughts. They both wanted – _needed_ – this and they weren't taking a step back.

Kurt kissed him again and walked him backwards towards his bedroom.

* * *

><p>As soon as the back of Blaine's knees hit the bed, he turned them around and pushed Kurt down onto the mattress instead. Kurt raised an eyebrow, but he scooted towards the head of the bed without complaining.<p>

"Well, aren't you joining me?" Kurt muttered teasingly when Blaine just stood there watching him, still incapable of believing that this was happening.

Who was this seductive, cheeky bastard, and what had he done with Kurt Hummel?

Oh, but Blaine definitely wasn't complaining…

Instead of replying, Blaine simply began removing his own clothes. Kurt's eyes went a very, very dark blue, darker than a midnight sky as he watched him. His lips parted hungrily, and he swiped his tongue over them as if his mouth had suddenly gone dry. Blaine had never felt so wanted before in his life.

He climbed onto the bed as soon as he had gotten rid of every single item of clothing. His cock bobbed against his stomach as he shifted on his knees to straddle Kurt, who immediately surged up to meet him for a desperate kiss. His hands hovered over Blaine for a moment, as if he couldn't decide where he wanted to touch first, before he set them on his naked back, slowly working them down, until he skimmed the tips of his fingers over the curve of his ass. At Blaine's appreciative moan, Kurt grabbed a handful of it and pulled Blaine closer.

"Wait…" Kurt grunted in frustration when it wasn't enough. "Let me take my clothes off…"

"No, no," Blaine stopped him right as he was reaching for the buttons on his shirt. "Let me."

Kurt bit his lip and nodded, sitting back and spreading himself a little, giving Blaine all the access he needed. He was so open and trusting that Blaine felt a little lump of emotion building in his throat for a moment. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, and began peeling the clothes off Kurt's mouth-watering body, kissing random spots and lingering on those he loved the most or elicited a moan in response.

He followed the trail of nakedness with his mouth, so by the time Kurt was completely bare, he was dropping tiny little kisses on his ankles. He slowly worked his way up, and when he reached the inside of Kurt's thighs, Kurt gasped and threw his head back. It was a much louder reaction that he had gotten the only other time they had been together, and as he continued licking and nipping carefully at the skin there, he looked up through his eyelashes questioningly.

"Oh, fuck, that damn beard…" Kurt murmured in a choked voice. Blaine's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but then he realized he was rubbing the sensitive skin of Kurt's thighs with his rough beard, leaving it red and raw in some places.

"Do you want me to stop? I'm sorry if it hurts. I'll shave, I promise…"

"Oh, god, don't. Don't, don't, don't," Kurt babbled, thrashing a little. "It feels so good."

Blaine couldn't hold back the smirk that grew on his lips. "Really, now?"

"Suck my cock," Kurt said suddenly, shocking the both of them with his bluntness. But Kurt was too far gone to care, and Blaine only shuddered in arousal. "God, I want to feel your mouth on my cock. Please, Blaine. I'm so hard…"

Blaine whined. He obeyed, kissing up Kurt's length, causing him to moan desperately. Oh, he needed to let his facial hair grow more often…

Kurt buried his fingers in Blaine's curls, pushing his head a little insistently, silently asking him for more. Blaine parted his lips and let the head of Kurt's cock slide between them, sucking lightly before taking more and more into his mouth. He didn't stop until the head hit his throat, and Kurt let out a long, wanton whimper that made Blaine rut a bit against the bed.

Blaine moved up and down Kurt's erection a few times, moaning at the taste of his pre-come, swirling his tongue around the crown, before he finally pulled away, panting and grabbing at Kurt's shoulders to pull himself up his body.

"No, no, god, why did you stop?" Kurt protested weakly.

"I need more," Blaine kissed his neck and jaw eagerly. "Please, Kurt. I need more. I need you."

Kurt surprised him by wrapping his arms around Blaine and turning them until Blaine was on his back with Kurt on top of him. Despite the heavy arousal floating in the room, Kurt watched him tenderly. "I want to give you everything you need, Blaine."

"Kurt…" Blaine whispered, feeling himself melting into the bed.

Kurt brushed his sweaty curls off his forehead and dropped a quick kiss on that spot, before looking at him with bright blue eyes that almost made Blaine swoon. "I'm so in love with you…"

Blaine felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He didn't say anything at first, convinced it was one of the many times he had fantasized listening to Kurt saying those words. It was just another fantasy. Just another dream.

But when Kurt continued looking at him and touching him with the utmost sweetness, waiting patiently, Blaine realized that this time… this time it was real.

"I love you," he replied. He tightened his hold on Kurt's shoulders, feeling he would float away if he didn't.

They kissed again. And again. And again. There was no reason to stop now, but they had every reason to keep going. They went from sweet and slow, to heated and urgent once again, until they were grinding against each other like inexperienced teenagers. Kurt would have been perfectly happy keeping up like that, knowing they could have as many rounds as they pleased, but Blaine would have none of it.

"Come on," Blaine pleaded, biting his lip. "Condoms? Lube?"

Kurt flicked the lobe of Blaine's ear with his tongue and then sucked it into his mouth. "Bedside table. First drawer. Cliché but convenient."

Once Blaine handed him the items, Kurt coated his fingers thoroughly and kissed down Blaine's chest to get him to relax. He allowed his tongue to roam over every dip and every muscle. He circled his finger around Blaine's hole, who had parted his legs in anticipation and let out a long moan at feeling Kurt so, so close to where he wanted him.

Kurt pushed the first finger inside, causing Blaine to arch off the bed in pleasure. Wanting to drive him absolutely crazy with it, Kurt crooked his finger just right, and with only two or three attempts, he found the bundle of nerves that made Blaine scream. He pressed against it a few times, teasing, before he removed his finger and pushed back in with two.

Blaine's stomach was sticky with his pre-come, and his cock was so hard it had to be painful by the time Kurt finished stretching him. His three fingers were pressed insistently against his prostate, drawing moan after moan out of Blaine. He knew if he kept going, he could make Blaine come from his fingers alone, and that sent a shiver of deep arousal all over him.

Kurt used one hand to line himself up with Blaine's entrance, and the other to hold Blaine's hand. As soon as he was a few inches in, he grabbed his other hand too, and they lifted them above Blaine's head on the pillow. Their chests were glued together and they couldn't be any closer than they were. It was perfect.

Kurt went in with one deep, long push. Blaine arched off the bed again, spreading his legs wider and taking it all so well that Kurt just had to reward him with a nice kiss.

"Doing okay?" He asked breathlessly.

"Never better," Blaine said, moaning immediately after when Kurt pulled out slowly, and pushed back in in such a tantalizing way that he could feel every inch of him in every nerve in his body.

Blaine wrapped his legs around Kurt's waist, trying to bring him even closer. They moved together, like a choreographed dance that they hadn't needed to practice. It was like their bodies had always known exactly how to work together, how to take them where they needed to go, how to leave them breathless with pleasure.

Kurt's hips began moving on their own accord, going faster and harder and making Blaine cry out with every single thrust. Kurt had to end the kiss and bury his face in Blaine's neck, panting hardly. He was so close, so close, that he could feel the sweet nectar of release on the tip of his tongue…

"I want you to come first, _please_," Kurt begged, nipping at Blaine's shoulder. "Come on, Blaine. I want to feel you when you come…"

Blaine groaned and tried to fuck himself onto Kurt's cock harder. "Oh god, _Kurt_…"

Kurt untangled one of their hands and sneaked it between their bodies. He only had to graze the tips of his fingers against Blaine's cock before he was coming in hot, long spurts between them. Kurt felt him clench around his own cock and moaned loudly, only lasting for a few more seconds before he was spilling into the condom deep inside of Blaine.

They cried out and panted into each other's mouths, trembling with the force of their orgasms. It took a while for them to come down from it, but they never stopped holding each other through it. Kurt was still buried inside of Blaine, and Blaine was using his very last strength to keep him there.

When they could finally move, they shifted enough to lie on their sides, Kurt apologizing when he had no choice but to pull out. They shared a pillow, staring at each other with dopey, tired, satisfied smiles on their faces. Kurt brushed Blaine's hair out of his face and moved in for the laziest kiss in history.

"That was amazing," Blaine mumbled, nuzzling Kurt's cheek when they ended the kiss.

"Mm, yes, it was…" Kurt sighed in contentment. "I wish we never had to move again…"

"Oh, yeah, let's do that…" Blaine hid his face on Kurt's chest.

Kurt laughed and tried to push him away. "We're disgusting. We need to clean up."

Blaine whined in protest. "But we're disgusting together. And comfortable. Don't forget comfortable…"

Kurt rolled his eyes, but after dropping one quick kiss on Blaine's lips, he got up. "Come on. Just get up long enough so I can change the sheets, and then I'll take care of the rest, okay?"

Blaine was almost half asleep already, but did as he was told. "Fine. But only because I love you."

That night, they fell asleep in each other's arms, smiling so hard they were afraid their faces would split in half.

* * *

><p>Blaine woke up slowly the next morning. He could feel the sunlight coming from the window and falling on his face, and the warmth of Kurt's body against his. They had shifted during the night, and Kurt was now on his back, with Blaine draped over him. He spent a minute or two watching Kurt sleep. His whole body felt like it was made of some liquid substance – he hadn't felt so full and satisfied like that in a very long time.<p>

But he still dreaded the moment when Kurt would wake up.

Last time, he had felt almost as happy as he did now. He had woken up before Kurt and resisted the urge to kiss him and touch him for only a brief moment, before the need to be close to him was too strong to fight. He had started peppering sweet kisses everywhere he could reach… only for Kurt to wake up, call him Mark and freak out. He had spent six whole heartbreaking months without him after that.

He wouldn't be able to survive another fallout.

Kurt was beautiful and precious to him in a way no other man had ever been, in a way no other man would ever be. Blaine was Kurt's. He had absolutely no doubt about that. What he did know for certain was that he wouldn't be able to recover if Kurt rejected him again.

He had jumped into this last night almost blindly, deciding to trust Kurt no matter what.

He hoped he hadn't set himself up for more heartbreak.

When he felt Kurt begin to stir, he tensed. He held his breath and waited.

_God, please, don't push me away. Please, please… don't tell me everything was a mistake. Don't say you didn't mean it. Don't…_

"Mm, morning…" Kurt muttered sleepily. He must have felt how tense Blaine was in his arms, because he raised his head a few seconds later to look down at him. "Blaine?"

Blaine swallowed nervously. "Yes?"

"Are you okay? What's wrong?" Kurt asked, pushing at him softly to make him sit up.

"Nothing, nothing," Blaine said, doing his best to smile, but he knew it look terribly fake as soon as he saw Kurt frown in confusion.

Kurt reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. "You don't look like nothing's going on. You look like something's upsetting you."

"Nothing's upsetting me!" Blaine tried to reassure him, but when Kurt glared at him, he simply sighed and ran a hand through his hair anxiously. "Fine, fine… I… I was just scared you would wake up and… and regret what happened last night…"

Kurt's face fell completely, and Blaine wished he hadn't said anything. "Oh sweetheart. Come here," he opened his arms and Blaine immediately crawled into them. "I'm sorry about how I reacted last time, but… I just wasn't ready for us then. But I meant what I said last night – I'm in love with you."

"Oh, Kurt…" Blaine felt his eyes filling with tears and he wiped them away, feeling a little stupid.

"I love you. I want to be with you. It took me a while to get where I am now, to be able to say I want to give us a shot, to be ready to even think about having another relationship after Mark died, but…" Kurt paused and looked at him intently. "Blaine, I'm glad it's you. I'm glad I get to have a second chance with you."

Blaine moved in for a quick kiss, cupping Kurt's face in his hands tenderly. "Thank you for choosing me."

Kurt leaned in for a second and then a third kiss. His blue eyes were fixed on Blaine's hazel ones when he said, "Thank you for waiting for me."

They slipped right back into bed, arms wrapped around each other, and kissed the morning away.

It seemed like the perfect way to start a brand new day.

* * *

><p><strong>And there it is! Feel free to leave a review and tell me what you thought about the chapter and the final episodes. I'd love to hear from all of you.<strong>

**I have a little epilogue left, and you can expect that one up sometime around Tuesday/Wednesday.**

**I love you all. THANK YOU.**

**L.-**


	10. Epilogue

**Welcome to the epilogue. Please read the author's note at the end.**

**I own nothing.**

* * *

><p>New York was never ever quiet – traffic jams were a constant occurrence and people wandered around the city at all times. It wasn't called the city that never sleeps for no reason. New York was an endless buzz full of life.<p>

Here, though, Kurt would have sworn he could hear his own breath echoing around him. Here, it was all emptiness and sadness. He guessed it was normal for a cemetery, but he still didn't like it. He tightened his hand around the bouquet of flowers he was carrying and carefully threaded through the lines of graves, looking for the one he hadn't seen in months and months. Looking for the one he hadn't dared to visit in exactly one year.

It had probably been the longest year in Kurt's life, and even though he liked to think he had come out of it stronger, he couldn't deny that he wished it would have been different.

When he was just a few steps away from Mark's grave, he stopped and allowed himself a moment to get ready for it. He buried his face in the beautiful orange lilies. They were Mark's favorite flowers, and he remembered buying him a bouquet on one of their first dates, as soon as he found out. Mark's face had lit up with a gorgeous smile when he had opened the door and found Kurt standing there. That was probably the moment when Kurt had fallen madly in love with him.

Kurt took a deep breath, and closed the distance between him and the grave.

There was a wilted bouquet already there, probably a week or two old. Kurt knew that Mark's mom visited often, but visiting his husband's grave wouldn't have given Kurt any comfort, because it never felt like Mark was here. The Mark he'd known and loved was gone forever, just like his mom's spirit had never been present at her grave. But today he'd needed somewhere to go to say goodbye to Mark and this was as close as he could get to him.

He crouched in front of the grave and tidied the dead flowers to one side, then his fingers traced each letter of Mark's name in the stone, struggling to hold back his tears.

"Hi honey," he said in a soft voice. "I'm sorry I haven't come until now. It was probably selfish of me, but… I couldn't. It's difficult to imagine you're here. It makes it all so horribly real… but I guess it's time I start accepting that this _is_ real." He chuckled sadly. "God, I'm babbling already. That's not what I came here for…"

He placed the flowers next to the grave, taking his time to arrange them just right, even though he knew he was stalling.

"I miss you. Every single day, I miss you. I'm still pretty pissed off at the universe for not giving you enough time to become my husband. I really wanted you to be. I wanted us to have our first dance. I wanted us to have a beautiful honeymoon. I wanted us to be married and argue and have make up sex, and disagree about baby names and…" He shook his head. "It just sucks that we never got to do everything we wanted to do. You deserved that, Mark. We both did."

He sniffled, and even though he would deny it if anyone ever accused him of such thing, he wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"After you died… I had a hard time figuring out what to do with my life. I felt so empty without you…" Kurt lowered his eyes. "I thought my life was over. But Blaine was there for me, just like he's always been, and he kept me floating when I felt like I was going to drown."

He unconsciously played with the flowers, fixing a petal here and there, as if too nervous to keep talking.

"For a long time, I felt so guilty that I didn't want to admit what I have always known. What I've known since I was just a damn kid with big dreams," Kurt muttered. He bit his lip and forced himself to say it. "I think you knew it too. I think you've always known a part of me was in love with Blaine…" He waited, but nothing happened. Mark didn't rise from the dead, the sky didn't part with a struck of lightning, the ground didn't crack under him. "It doesn't mean I stopped loving you – I don't think I can ever do that…"

It had taken a very long time for Kurt to wash the guilt away. Many late nights laying awake in his bed staring at the ceiling and wondering if loving another man after his fiancé died made him a bad person. But he knew if Mark could, he would give him a quick pat on the head and tell him to stop being so silly.

"Blaine loves me, and he makes me smile every day, even when I'm having a bad day," Kurt explained sheepishly. "I wouldn't have survived losing you without him. It was hard at first to accept that I could love someone else, but Mark… I need him. I love him. I think he can help me rebuild a new life…"

He wiped another batch of tears from his face. He stopped for a moment to breathe and think of what he wanted to say next. He sort of expected to feel guilty and awful, like he was confessing to his husband that he was cheating on him, but he didn't. He felt light and at peace.

"I will never forget you," Kurt said caressing the gravestone once again. "You were one of the loves of my life, and a damn good one. You were the perfect man to love, Mark. I can love a memory, but I cannot hold on to a ghost."

He stood up slowly and cleared his throat. The cemetery was still deserted and Kurt wrapped his arms around himself. It was just the beginning of September, but autumn was announcing its imminent arrival already.

"I love you," Kurt murmured and smiled. He imagined Mark smiling back at him and felt warmth in his chest. "I'll come back again soon, okay? And I promise I'll look after your mom."

Kurt bit his lip. His father had told him he believed in heaven. He believed in meeting their loved ones at the end of the road, of getting to see them again. Kurt had said he didn't believe in those things, that he couldn't. But sometimes he really wanted to.

"I hope that, wherever you are, you met my mom," Kurt said, feeling a little choked up. "And I hope I can make you both proud."

He nodded and exhaled sharply, before he turned around to walk out of the cemetery. He looked back the grave before he was too far away to see it, and watched as the breeze silently ruffled the flowers a bit. He closed his eyes and imagined that same breeze that now brushed his face was a caress – a caress from the two people he had loved unconditionally and lost too soon.

* * *

><p>As soon as Kurt opened the front door, he was immediately hit by warmth and a very comforting, spicy scent. He stepped into the apartment and dropped his keys on the bowl by the door.<p>

Blaine came out of the kitchen, wearing a ridiculous apron and with a little smudge of flour on his cheek. "Hey! You're home!"

Kurt couldn't stop the smile that pulled at his lips despite how draining today had been. He walked towards him and melted into Blaine's welcoming open arms. "Hi. What are you doing?"

"I thought you might need a little pick me up, so I'm baking some cookies. The first batch is in the oven," Blaine said, dropping a kiss to Kurt's temple and letting his lips pressed there. "I also found that expensive, aromatic tea you like so much and bought a box for you. I'll put on some water and make you a cup. What do you say?"

Kurt blinked away the tears forming in his eyes. He had already cried too much, and even if this time it was because he hadn't even imagined he could be this happy again, he felt like he needed a break from it. He wanted to laugh more. He thought he deserved it. "That sounds perfect. Thank you so much."

Blaine hummed and swayed him back and forth a bit. They allowed the silence to settle between them for a moment, before he spoke again. "Are you okay? How did it go?"

Kurt hid his face in Blaine's neck and inhaled deeply. He smelled of cinnamon, chocolate, sugar and happiness. "I'm okay. I think… I think he'd be happy for us."

Blaine cupped Kurt's jaw in his hands carefully and made him look up at him. Their eyes met, both so intense and mesmerizing, and Blaine offered him a tender smile. "I think he would be happy for us, too." Blaine paused, and looked away for a second, as if he were embarrassed. "He knew. He knew I loved you. I actually told him myself when he asked me."

Kurt's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? He did?"

"Yeah. Soon after you first introduced us. He looked like he would take a step away if we wanted him to. That's when I was sure he would be perfect for you – because he loved you so damn much, Kurt, but he put your happiness before his," Blaine explained, and he looked like he was close to tears too. "But he knew, and he never tried to put a dent in our friendship. He knew all I wanted to do, all I've ever wanted to do was spend my life loving you…"

Kurt moved in for a soft kiss before Blaine could say anything else. Some people struggled to find one good man who would love them – he had managed to find two amazing, perfect men who loved him without regrets or conditions, who loved Kurt Hummel for everything he was, flaws and all.

For every heartache life had put in his path, it had rewarded him with twice as much love.

Blaine smiled against his lips, his arms wrapped around his neck. He was the most beautiful thing Kurt had ever seen, smudge of flour and all. "Tea and cookies?" He offered quietly.

_I'm going to be okay,_ Kurt thought as he watched him, slightly incredulous that he got to call Blaine his. _We are going to be okay._

"Tea and cookies," he confirmed, and kissed him again, just because he could.

* * *

><p><strong>Every time a story ends, I can't believe it. This one particularly, because it was shorter than most and ended almost simultaneously with Glee. Everything is going to change now – most of the fandom will dissolve or find new interests, and nothing will ever be the same again. I feel sad whenever I think of it, but I guess it's the natural course of life.<strong>

**I wouldn't have been able to write this or any of my other stories without my amazing friends/betas' help. They are truly the best thing I got out of all this, so thank you so much, Wutif and Christine. And most of these chapters wouldn't have been finished if I hadn't had the best cheerleader in the world, thatgleekychick. **

**I got the same question over and over again in the past few weeks – am I going to stop writing fics now that Glee is over? I want to say no, but I don't want to make promises I can't keep, so here's the truth: I am halfway through my next fic, a story I'm enjoying enormously and I'm terribly proud of, but I haven't finished it yet and I don't know when/if I'm going to be able to finish it. I'm working on other things that are very time consuming now and I don't want to post what I have if I can't be 100% sure I'll be able to see it through. So yes, my idea is to keep writing fics for the Glee fandom, or at least to post one more, if nothing else. But I don't know when that will be. Hopefully soon. And hopefully you will all still be around to read it by the time I finally get to finish it.**

**In case you don't come back to read more – or in case life gets in the way and I simply can't take the time to write more fics – I want to thank each and every one of you for giving me a reason to work my ass off writing, for helping me believe a little bit more in myself, and for allowing me to share a little bit of myself with you, through my stories. I want to thank you for every review, every time you stopped by to read, every tweet you sent after reading an update and every message on Tumblr asking when the next chapter would be up. I want to thank you for making me feel like a real writer for the first time in my whole life, and for being the motivation I needed to write most of these stories, that I'm so damn proud of. Simply – I want to thank you. Because you pressed pause in your own life to read a chapter written by a random Argentinian girl every week, a girl who didn't know she would grow up so much just by being part of a fandom.**

**I feel like there is so much more I should be thanking all of you for, but this is getting longer than the epilogue itself and I guess no one's reading anymore :P So anyway: THANK YOU. That's all.**

**I love you all. Hope to see you soon?**

**Sitting, waiting, wishing…**

**L.-**


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